


Spark

by SandM1827



Series: Charming Wayward Sons [2]
Category: Sons of Anarchy, Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Monster of the Week, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandM1827/pseuds/SandM1827
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jax's first brush with the supernatural came years before his little brother started running with wolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Warnings: Depictions of violence toward children.  
> I will add character/relationship tags for the last two chapters when I post them.
> 
> In fics where both Sheriff Stilinski and John Winchester appear, the sheriff will be referred to as Stilinski.
> 
> Despite the fact that Stiles did not have the nickname Stiles until after his father married Claudia, I chose to ignore that for this one and just refer to him as Stiles even though he's just a toddler. It's a three-show crossover which can be confusing enough without throwing Stiles given name into the mix.

They had been cooling their heels at Bobby’s house for nearly two weeks and Dean was going a little stir crazy. It couldn’t be helped when his dad was laid up with a broken leg and would be for the foreseeable future. Normally, Dean didn’t mind the downtime, but it started wearing thin sooner than it probably should have this time around.

His pent up energy was getting on everyone’s nerves. He was practically bouncing off the walls. Sam had snapped at him more than once for playing his music too loud, and for stealing the rulers out of his backpack to use as makeshift drumsticks. Bobby had scolded him multiple times for jumping down the stairs and running around the house like a three-year-old on a sugar high. His dad had simply tossed him a few of Sam’s old comic books that just happened to be lying around, and told him to sit down and read.

“These are boring.” He muttered, dropping the graphic novels onto the coffee table. “I’ve read them all before.”

“Crack a book.” His father gestured to the many books stacked in tall piles around the room. “Learn something.”

“I don’t want to.” He liked a good book as much as the next person, but he couldn’t sit still long enough to do that now. “Can I practice with the throwing knives?”

“Not a chance in hell, boy.” Bobby grumbled as he sipped his whiskey-laced coffee in the ratty recliner across from the couch. “Rumsfield still won’t come out from under the truck after the last time you ‘practiced’ with them.”

“That wasn’t my fault. He snuck up on me.” Dean had been in the zone with laser-like focus on the fencepost target until that damn dog had come up behind him and stuck his wet nose to the back of his leg. “Come on. I need something to do.”

“You can work the phones.” Bobby suggested, nodding toward what Dean liked to call the _Hunters Hotline_ row of phones on the wall near the kitchen. “Oh, Johnny, Caleb called, said he would take that hunt in California.”

“There’s a hunt?” He questioned excitedly, fully prepared to gear up and head out.

“Something is kidnapping infants in Northern California.” His dad scowled at the newspaper as if it were the one snatching kids. “The bodies are returned to their cribs three days later. The runes painted on their skin have led the local PD to believe devil worshippers are responsible.”

“How were they killed?” Monsters, both human and supernatural, had many ways of viciously killing their victims.

“The newspaper doesn’t say.” That made sense. The authorities were always careful to omit certain details when releasing information to the public. “There is a pattern with the victims. They are all boys, between twelve to twenty-four months of age, and have brown eyes.”

“Are the kids all from the same town?” If the victims were isolated to one area, they might be able to track the monster back to its den.

“They are all from different towns. If you put them up on a map they create a circle, with one town dead center,” The older Winchester folded the newspaper and gave Dean his undivided attention. “Charming.”

There was cautiousness in his father’s tone that he was not used to hearing, but Dean knew why it was there. Charming was special to him in way he was not yet ready to comprehend. He had traveled there a total of three times, once on a hunt with his dad when he was fifteen, and then twice more just for a visit. The town left a lasting impression.

“I know you want the case,” Considering his dad and Bobby had already put Caleb on the case, Dean was sure he would be told to sit this one out. “It involves kids, and that is a trigger for you.”

“It’s a trigger for all of us.” Hunts got personal quickly when there was a child involved.

“And Charming is where Jax is.” He would forever be thankful for the lack of judgment his father held in relation to his involvement with Jax Teller. “You haven’t seen him in a while.”

Dean had met Jax at the Teller-Morrow garage. They had taken to each other easily, both gear heads and outlaws in their own rights. Dean had found himself seeking the other teen out in his short stay in Charming, enjoying his company more than he expected to. When it had come time for him to move on to the next hunt, he surprised himself by handing Jax a phone number and PO Box address, so they could keep in touch.

“Yeah. I want to see Jax.” He didn’t have many friends outside the hunting world, and the ones he did, he didn’t get to see as often as he would like. “But I also want to gank the thing that’s killing kids. The case will take priority.”

“We don’t know what it is, and until we do, I don’t want you near it. Caleb can handle it.” He really should have seen that coming. His dad never allowed him to work on his own or with a fellow hunter, if the monster was still unknown. “If you want to go visit Jax, that’s fine, but Caleb will take the hunt.”

“I can help with research. I can talk to cops and witnesses.” It didn’t all have to fall on Caleb’s shoulders. “I can catch up with Jax and help Caleb.” 

“Research only.” His dad said tightly, as if he assumed Dean would willfully defy the order. “And be safe.”

“What is safer than research?” It was the most boring task on the planet.

“I meant with Jax.” The older man clarified, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Just because you can’t knock each other up, does not mean you shouldn’t use protection. STD’s are still a factor.”

“W-What? I don’t know what you are talking about.” Dean spluttered, thrown by his father’s bluntness. “Jax and I are friends.”

“I never said you weren’t.” His dad shrugged. “I know there are certain _benefits_ that come along with that friendship. I just want you to remember to use a condom if and when you cash in on them.”

“Jesus Christ. There isn’t…. We’re not…. What the fuck?” What alternate universe did he slip into to even be having this conversation?

“I don’t think I’ve seen him this flustered about sex since he was twelve and Sam asked him why he spent so long in the shower.” Bobby snickered at Dean’s expense.

“It’s nothing to get worked up about, Son.” His dad assured him. “We’ve all been there.”

“We’ve all– _what_?” He blanched, two seconds away from ransacking the house for Bobby’s stock of brain bleach. “J-Just what?”

“Nights can get lonely when you’re on a case. Hunters have been known to take comfort in one another.” The older Winchester drawled wistfully.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, so long as it’s all consensual.” Bobby added.

“No! I don’t need to know any of this.” His whole body shuddered in response to the complete over-share of information. “I’m gonna go pack and pretend we never had this conversation.”

He hopped over the coffee table in an effort to get away from the men as quickly as possible. He bolted for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, barely catching the final exchange between Bobby and his father.

“How many of them pain killers did I give you, Johnny?”

“One too many apparently.” His dad chuckled.

* * *

 

Jax could not help but feel like he and his entire house were under intense scrutiny. It was the first time he was really showing it off and he wanted everything to be perfect. It was important to him that everything was where it should be. He had an irrational fear that if one thing was out of place, it would all fall apart, and this week he had all planned out, had been looking forward to for weeks, would be ripped away.

“Are you sure you can handle this, Jackson?” Stilinski asked in lieu of hello as Jax let him in. “You’ve only watched him overnight, never this long. And I was always two hours away, not on the other side of the country.”

“I can handle it. We’ll be fine.” He tried to sound as convincing as he could, but honestly, he was anxious as hell.

This week would mark the first time he was watching his little brother longer than a single night. He had him for five whole days all on his own. It probably wouldn’t be so nerve-wracking if he knew Stilinski could be called upon in the event of an emergency, but as it was, the other man would be in Virginia all week.

“I don’t mean to drop him on you.” He made it seem as if this were a spur of the moment decision, when in reality they had laid out the groundwork for this visit weeks ago. “I would take him with me if I could.”

“I know.” Jax was well aware of how hard it was for Stilinski to leave the kid with anyone for longer than a few hours. “What are going to Virginia for anyway?”

“A friend of mine from the Marines went AWAL. I’m being called to testify on his behalf.” Stilinski’s expression hardened, he got that faraway look in his eyes that Jax recognized from Piney when the old man reminisced about his military days. Stilinski shook it off quicker than the old man did. “Like I said, I would take Stiles with me if I could, but I wouldn’t have anyone to watch him, everyone I know in Virginia will be at the hearing.”

“I get it.” Taking the kid on a long flight was probably a factor as well. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of him.”

“I know you will.” Stilinski smiled and shifted the toddler in his arms so he could rifle through the diaper bag until he found a slip of paper. “Here are all the numbers you will need. The pediatricians and the number of the hotel I will be staying at. I also wrote down the number of the place the hearing is being held, so if there’s an emergency and you can’t reach me at the hotel, you can call me there.”

“Got it.” He took the list from the older man, shoving it in his pocket while making a mental note to pin it to the fridge later on.

“He usually takes a nap after lunch and I’ve been putting him to bed around seven every night.” Stilinski handed over a second list, one with activities written out beside specific blocks of time. “I would appreciate it if you kept up with his sleep schedule. Everything else on there is only a suggestion.”

“Right. Okay.” He folded the list and placed it beside the other in his pocket. “Speaking of bed time, I, uh, I finished his room.”

Considering he had bought the house well over a year ago, he should have had the nursery done a hell of a lot sooner. He had been putting it off, unwilling to waste money on baby furniture his brother may never use. The kid did not need much when he only ever stayed the night here and there, often sleeping in Jax’s room with him or in the playpen.

Jax had only allowed himself to put the room together after Stilinski had asked him to babysit for the week. He hoped the five days would be a stepping-stone to other extended visits. And if Stiles was going to be staying more often, Jax figured he would need a room of his own.

“It’s not much, but I thought he’d like it.” Jax admitted, feeling self-conscious as he twisted the knob and pushed open the door to the boy’s new bedroom.

The walls had been changed first, he and Opie had spent a weekend painting them a pale blue color. The crib, changing table, and dresser were second-hand, but in good condition. There was a stack of children’s books on the dresser, courtesy of Donna, and a chest full of toys pushed off to the corner that had once belonged to Jax’s younger brother Thomas. It wasn’t much, but he thought it would do for the time being.

“This is great, Jax.” Stilinski praised, eyes catching momentarily on the Harley decal on the wall.

“Bike!” Stiles jutted his hand out to the decoration.

“You like that, buddy?” Jax grinned widely at his little brother.

“No.” The boy shook his head, a twinkle in his eye that made Jax believe that kid knew he was being a shithead.

“Heathen.” He maturely stuck his tongue out at the kid, receiving a snort from the boy’s father. “Anyway, I didn’t put the room together with any expectations-“

“You want to see him more. I understand that.” Stilinski said thoughtfully. “You’ve been really good with him on the overnights. Let’s see how these few days go and then we’ll see about weekends or something. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.” He would have to plan around his shifts at TM and his SAMCRO duties, but he would make it work.

“Okay. I need to get going or I will miss my flight.” The older man sighed, holding Stiles a little tighter. “He’s been really clingy lately, even when I’m dropping him off at daycare. He is probably going to be upset and throw a tantrum when I leave.”

“Good to know.” He could handle a temper tantrum. “Want me to take him now?”

“Oh, um, give me a minute.” Stilinski took a step back, like he thought Jax might take the child from him by force. “I need to…say goodbye.”

Stilinski cradled the toddler’s head with a hand and nuzzled his nose to the boy’s hair. Stiles reached his chubby fingers up to pat his father’s cheek, pouting as if he could sense the man’s distress. The pain of the impending separation was clear as day on both their faces.

“I love you, buddy.” Stilinski murmured to his son. “Okay? I love you.”

“Love, love.” Stiles smacked his lips together in the mimic of a kiss.

“Yes. Love, love.” The older man pressed his lips to the baby’s cheek. “Be good for your brother, okay?”

“Bro!” Stiles swiveled his head to Jax, making grabby hands at him.

“Yep. There you go.” Stilinski relinquished his hold on the child, letting Jax take him into his own arms. “I’ll call you when the plane lands. It might be late.”

“That’s fine.” He was a night owl anyway. “Did you pack his ‘lullaby’ tape? I haven’t had a chance to pick up a copy and Piney only has it on vinyl.”

“The Seger cassette is in the diaper bag.” Stilinski patted the pocket of the bag as he set it on the dresser. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay with him?”

“Yes. This is gonna be great.” He really hoped he wasn’t overselling it.

“I hope so.” That really wasn’t the vote of confidence Jax was looking for but he would take it. “If something happens between now and when my plane lands, call the hotel, they will hold messages for me if you tell them that I’m checking in later.”

“I got it.” The information didn’t matter, because nothing was going to happen. “You said you had to get going…”

“Right. Okay. I am. I’m going.”

* * *

 

The last time Dean had driven through Charming had been over twelve months prior. Not much had changed, small towns like Charming rarely did. It was nice to return to a familiar place, he didn’t usually get to do that.

If it were a few months ago, Dean would have taken a left on Fairfield and pulled into the Teller-Morrow lot. This time he past it right by when he saw Jax’s bike was not sitting in its usual place. He drove to the residential neighborhood instead, where he had only been once before. He did his best to ignore how natural it felt to park the Impala beside the Dyna in the driveway outside the small house.

He couldn’t help but be nervous as he walked up to the front door. He tried to tell himself the visit was no big deal, he was just stopping by to say ‘hi’ to a friend. The lie seemed to relax him and give him the courage to knock his knuckles against the door.

“Yeah?” Jax’s he looked confused for all of a second as he swung the door open, before his face broke out in a grin as he recognized who was standing in front of him. “Dean.”

“Hey Jax.” He waved a hand awkwardly. “I’m in town working. I thought I would come by and see how you were doing.”

“I’m good. I’m good.” He pushed the door open further. “Come in. I was just making dinner.”

Dean obediently followed Jax into the house, pleasantly surprised to find the place actually looking like a home. The last time he had been there, Jax had just moved in and there were boxes filling up the entryway. It was nice to see he had found the time to unpack since they had last seen each other.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” He sent a pointed glance to the Playboy print hanging in the hallway.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He took his time scoping out his surroundings as Jax led him through the house. Jax’s idea of decoration seemed to be stuck on motorcycles and half-naked women, which was not shocking in any shape, way, or form. However, the playpen in the living room and children toys scattered about threw Dean for a loop.

He was ready to ask about the seemingly out of place items when they rounded the corner into the kitchen and his eyes found a child sitting at the table. His butt was planted on a few phone books so he could see over the tabletop, and one of his pudgy hands had a crayon locked in its grip as he scribbled away on what looked like an old newspaper.

“Hey buddy.” Jax ruffled the toddler’s hair as they entered the small kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.” The boy nodded eagerly, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he gave his drawing his complete focus.

“You better not be coloring on my table,” Jax warned with a half-hearted scowl. “Keep it on the paper, little man. I’ll pick you up a real coloring book tomorrow.”

“You, um,” Dean scratched the back of his head, eyes flickering between the biker and the baby. “You have a, uh…. There’s a kid.”

“Oh. Yeah.“ Jax remarked offhandedly, as if he had forgotten the kid was there or that Dean had no idea who the child was. “This is Stiles. Stiles, this is my friend Dean. Say ‘hi’ to him, buddy.”

The boy lifted his gaze to Dean, studied him with a concentration Dean was sure he had never seen on a child so young. The kid didn’t speak, as Jax had urged him to, instead choosing to smile shyly and return to his coloring.

“You didn’t have a kid the last time I was here.” The kid probably wasn’t even two yet, and if he was, he was small for his age, but no matter how old he was, he had definitely been born quite sometime before Dean’s previous visit to Charming.

“He wasn’t staying with me yet.” Jax told him as he turned to attend to food on the stove. “I’ve got him for the whole week this time.”

“Oh.” Dean made the executive decision not to pry when Jax did not offer up anything more on the situation.

“You want some mac and cheese? There will be plenty for everyone.” Jax gestured to the pan as he dumped some of its contents in a bowl on the counter.

“Cheese!” Stiles face brightened and he dropped his crayon to clap his hands together.

“I was talking to Dean.” The blond chuckled, setting the bowl with a plastic spoon in front of the boy. “Stiles is kind of a cheese freak.”

“I can see that.” Sam had been the same way as a kid. “If there’s enough, I’ll take some.”

“Sit. I’ll get you a bowl.”

Dean did as he was told, taking a seat at the end of table, leaving the chair between he and the kid for Jax. The boy seemed content to ignore him, while shoveling scoops of food sloppily into his mouth, leaving a mess on the table.

“Might want to slow down, kiddo,” Dean advised. “You keep eating that fast and you’ll get a stomach ache.”

“This isn’t daycare. No one is going to take it from you.” Jax chided as he set a bowl in front of Dean and sat down beside him.

“Kids at daycare steal his food?” Dean was suddenly thankful he and Sam were never left in a place like that.

“I don’t know. He always eats his food like it’ll be snatched from him before he can finish it. No one at home is taking it from him, so…” So asshole kids at daycare were a plausible scenario. “You said you were in town for work?”

“Yep.”

“Your dad and Sam at a motel? You could have brought them over.”

“They’re at Bobby’s.” The knowledge that Jax cared enough about him to ask about his family sent a spark of warmth through his heart. “Dad broke his leg two weeks back. He’s resting.”

“He must love that.” Jax chortled knowingly. “Just you then?”

“Just me.”

“You know, if you haven’t checked into a motel yet, you can crash here, if you want.” The other man shrugged as if it were no big deal. “The couch is comfortable, so is my bed.”

“You’re gonna let me have your bed while you take the couch?” His attempt to be coy might have worked if not for the smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh, I’m gonna keep my bed, but you are more than welcome to join me if you get lonely on the couch. I’ll make room for you.” Jax made a show of licking his lips enticingly. “Fair warning, I sleep naked.”

“Good to know.” That was damn good information to have.

“Probably not something we should be talking about in front of the kid.” Jax jerked a thump toward the boy.

“You always let him eat like that?” Dean asked in reference to how the kid had discarded the spoon and taken to sticking his fingers right in the bowl to grab handful of mac and cheese. “That’s going to be a mess.”

“There usually is when he is involved.” He brushed it off, not the least bit perturbed by the prospect of cleaning up later. “How long will you be in town?”

“Couple days.” It depended on how the case went. “I’ve got some meetings tomorrow. I probably won’t be around until after dinner.”

“I’ve got work tomorrow at TM, so I won’t be around either.” Jax said as he continued his meal. “Stiles gets to stay with Uncle Piney while I’m working.”

“Piney!” Stiles whipped his head toward the doorway, as if he were expecting the old man to come traipsing into the room. “Piney?”

“Big fan of Piney, I’m guessing. “ Dean noted the kid’s excitement.

“Oh yeah and the feeling is mutual.” The other man grinned.

“Really?” Dean had met Piney a few times now and he couldn’t fathom how his surliness would match-up with the toddler’s jubilance.

“I took Stiles into the chapel with me for church about a month ago. Clay wasn’t happy about it, but I had no choice. I didn’t have anyone to watch him.” Jax made a ‘what can you do’ gesture with his hands. “I gave him this foam ball to keep him occupied. Long story short, Clay started being a dick and Stiles chucked the ball at him, nailed him right in the face.”

“No shit?” He would have paid big bucks to witness that.

“Piney started cracking up and Stiles gets this look on his face like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.” Jax laughed as if he were picturing it in his mind. “They’ve been best buds ever since.”

“Hey!” Stiles smacked a palm to the table. “Piney!”

“You’ll see him tomorrow, little man.”

“No.” The boy shook his head, glaring with spectacular menace for a child. “Now.”

“No.” Jax parroted. “Tomorrow.”

_“Now.”_

“Demanding, isn’t he?” Dean mused amusedly.

“Just a bit.” Jax snorted, leveling the boy with a look of warning. “He’s gonna be in time-out if he keeps it up though.”

“No.” Stiles repeated petulantly but went back to eating without further prompting.

“You want something to drink, buddy?” Jax questioned as he stood from the table. "I'm gonna get you some milk. Dean, you want a beer?"

“Sure.” Dean nodded.

While Jax was rummaging through the fridge, Dean took a moment to really look at the toddler, to scan his features for the first time. The boy had a head of wild dark hair that stuck up in every direction and amber colored eyes full of mischief. His infectious grin was reminiscent of Jax’s, but the rest of him was someone else entirely.

“Where’s his mom?” He found himself asking before he thought better of it. “You don’t have to answer that. Sorry.”

“She’s not really in the picture.” Jax admitted with a non-committal shrug. “It was her choice. She didn’t want any more kids and her husband didn’t want to raise someone else’s child.”

“Husband, huh?” Dean pursed him lips and whistled. “Little slut.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Jax snapped harshly, obviously assuming Dean was talking about the toddler’s mother, when really it was meant as a joke directed at Jax.

“I wasn't...- I’m sorry.” He apologized quickly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I didn’t know you cared about this chick.”

“Of course I do.” Jax’s curt tone suggested Dean was an idiot for thinking otherwise. “I always have.”

Jax’s hair-trigger reaction to protect the child’s mother was a dead giveaway of her identity. It had to be Tara Knowles, Jax’s high school sweetheart, whom Dean had met during his initial visit to Charming. Dean could recall how completely in love the couple had been back then, he was a little jealous of it, and was so sure the pair would make it in the long run. The next time he found himself in Charming, he was surprised to learn that Tara had split and left Jax behind.

It was clear now that something had changed. Tara had returned and old feelings had resurfaced between she and Jax. The former couple still loved each other enough to have a child together, even while Tara had a family with another man.

“Oh.” He mumbled dumbly. “I didn’t mean to offend-“

“I know. I know you didn’t.” Jax scrubbed a tired hand down his face. “It’s just a complicated situation. I really don’t want to get into with Stiles in hearing distance.”

“I understand.” Dean would keep his mouth shut about the kid and his parentage. “Hey, you know, I should get going.”

“You just got here. You haven’t even finished your food or your beer.” Jax waved around the beer he had yet to hand over.

“I’m not that hungry. I had a big lunch.” He lost his appetite when thoughts of Jax rekindling his romance with an ex-girlfriend entered his mind. He wasn’t about to think about why that was. “It’s still early. I want to get some work done before it gets too late.”

“You’re not coming back tonight, are you?” Jax sighed, slumping his shoulders like he already knew the answer Dean had for him would be disappointing.

“I, uh,” He didn’t want to lie to Jax and say he would be there when he knew he wouldn’t. “I’ll probably stay at a motel tonight. I don’t want to interfere in your time with the kid.”

“Come back tomorrow. We can have a late dinner after Stiles goes to bed.”

“Let me see how my day goes and I’ll get back to you.”

* * *

 

It was mid-morning when Dean met Caleb at a diner a couple miles outside of Charming. He was already on his second cup of coffee when the hunter joined him in the booth.

“Long morning?” He questioned, noting the older man’s haggard appearance.

“You have no idea.” Caleb huffed. “I’ve been talking to victim families.”

“What can I get you, doll?” The waitress asked as she came up beside the table.

“Coffee and the special.” The hunter answered, not even bothering to glance at a menu. “Thank you.”

“Be right up.”

“Victim families,” Dean drummed his fingers along the tabletop once they were alone. “How many have you spoken to?”

“Four.” Caleb let his gaze find a family sitting a few tables away. “There are thirteen in all. So far they all have the same story.”

“Which is?”

“They put their sons to bed at the normal time and went to bed themselves sometime later.” Caleb removed his journal from his jacket pocket that had the official details written in neat script. “One or both parents woke in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling in their gut, parental instinct or something. They went into the nursery to check on the kid, only to find him missing. The details are the same with every family except one.”

“What was different about that family?”

“The child wasn’t feeling well, so the parents let him sleep between them in bed. They woke up and he was gone. They never felt anyone grab him or felt him get out of bed.” The story was the same, the only variation was the room in which the child was taken. “Each family searched their home top to bottom, but their sons were nowhere to be found.”

“Were the houses secured?” How easy was it for someone to gain access into the homes?

“The parents insisted all the doors and windows were locked.” No entry points then.

“How were the children….” Found wasn’t the right word, that implied they had been rescued, were alive and well, and that was not the case. “Dad mentioned something about the kids being found in their cribs.”

“Three nights after the kidnapping they are returned to their cribs, swaddled in their blankets as they were when they had been originally put to bed.” Caleb clenched his hand into a fist, that particular detail angering the hunter more than the others. “The parents were elated, believing their sons had been given back to them. The happiness wore off as soon as they opened the blankets.”

“Giving the parents false hope…that’s sick.” Whatever was killing the children got off on knowing the heartbreak the family would feel. “And when they unwrapped the blankets what did they see? Besides their dead child.”

“I don’t know.” Caleb shook his head sadly. “That is where one or both of the parents broke down and became inconsolable. The other parent would have to comfort them. I didn’t want to push them, considering all they’ve been through. I figured I’d save that line of questioning for the coroner.”

“That’s probably best.” The last thing they wanted to do was traumatize the parents further. “Did you find a connection between the families?”

“Sort of. The day the infants were kidnapped, the parents had been out and about around town. They were each stopped by a stranger on the street who made a point of telling them all the same thing,” Caleb flipped through his notes until he found the right page. “ _’What a special child. Eyes like glowing embers to complement the spark of fire kindled in his soul.’_ ”

“That sounds invasively creepy.” That was probably why the parents remembered it. “What about the person who said that? Could the parents identify them?”

“It was a different person every time. According to local PD, it was men on six occasions and women on seven. The ages and ethnicities are all over the map. No one, so far, has given me or the police the same description twice.”

“It could be a shifter.” The stranger stopping the parents on the street could be the same person every time, simply having slipped into a different skin.

“Shifters don’t usually travel in packs, and they don’t take their time with the victims. I mean, at most they might hold them for a day.” Caleb explained, tapping a finger against his journal. “I’m thinking a coven of witches.”

“Well, we have a three day time period, kids of specific gender, eye color, and ages. They could be factors in a ritual.”

“Could be.” Caleb nodded. “We’ll know more after I speak with the rest of the families and the coroner.”

“Why don’t you keep talking to the victim’s families,” That was something Dean did not have the stomach for when there was a child involved. “I’ll talk to the coroner.”

“It says something about our job when talking to families is worse than watching an autopsy.”

“Yes, it does.” Or maybe it just said something about them rather than their jobs.

* * *

 

If Jax showed up a few hours late for work, it was not his fault. He had been up most of the night with Stiles, who refused to sleep, throwing an almighty temper tantrum that did not quit until three a.m. when he finally succumbed to exhaustion. His attitude had not improved one bit when he had woken up. He fought Jax through his diaper change and while he was trying to get him dressed and ready for the day. He tossed his breakfast on the floor the minute Jax had given it to him, and nearly smacked Jax in the head with his bottle.

The only relief Jax had was when Stilinski had called before they left the house. Jax had put the phone up to Stiles ear and the kid had calmed almost instantly, listening to his father’s voice with rapt attention. Of course, he started sobbing again when the call was over, and had not stopped since.

“All right. Come on now, little man.” He tried to keep his voice even, knowing that snapping at the kid would only make matters worse. “You are okay. There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Daddy!” Stiles yelled _directly_ into Jax’s ear as he unbuckled him from the car seat and picked him up.

“I know you want your dad.” The kid had made that perfectly clear. “Dad rocks. Big brother sucks. I get it. Jesus.”

The toddler’s cries seemed to capture the attention of the mechanics and the customers at the garage as Jax trudged across the parking lot. He did his best not to shout ‘he’s just my brother’ when he felt the judgmental gazes coming from every person he passed on his way to the clubhouse. If he slammed the door a little harder than necessary, no one could really blame him, he had to vent his frustration somehow.

“Jesus Christ.” Chibs clapped his hands over his ears to drown out the kids loud wailing. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Daddy!” The child screamed for the thousandth time.

“Separation anxiety.” Jax grumbled as he held the infant out to the old man sitting at the bar. “Take him, Piney. Please, take him.”

“Come here, spitfire.” Piney took the child into his arms, not put off by his banshee-like cries. “That’s enough now, Son. Hush.”

“Daddy.” The mournful sobs escaping Stiles lips were only muffled by Piney’s kutte.

“I know, Son, now calm down.”

Little by little, the boy seemed to relax under the old man’s ministration. Piney rubbed a hand soothingly down the toddler’s back and spoke to him in low tones. His wails tapered off to small pouts, and his tears were lost to the denim of Piney’s kutte as he rested his head against the old man’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” Jax had been trying to calm the kid down all night to no avail, and Piney gets the job done in less than five minutes. It was fucking aggravating. “Is it your old man musk or something? Is it your voice? What is it?”

“Maybe he just likes Pop better.” Opie’s joke fell flat when Jax turned a sharp glare on him. “You look like you could use a nap, Jax.”

“And a beer.” He spared a glance to the bar, wondering if he could get away with drinking on the job. “He’s probably going to be hungry soon, Piney. He wouldn’t eat this morning.”

“I’ll make him something when he’s ready.”

“Hey,” Opie kicked a boot against Jax’s sneaker. “Did I see the Impala driving around town earlier?”

“Yeah. Dean’s in town for work.” He hadn’t heard from the other man since he more or less bolted from his house the night before. “He stopped by last night.”

“Just stopped by?” The younger Winston raised an inquisitive brow.

“I don’t know what happened, man. He started asking about Gemma and it got weird.” He was still unsure as to why Dean seemed to become visibly upset when Jax claimed to care about her. “Maybe it’s a mom thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he was confused about why I had Stiles and she didn’t. I told him she wasn’t involved and everything.” He wasn’t at liberty to say why Gemma had shunned Stiles, since he was confident the reasoning she had actually given him was bullshit. “Dean lost his mom when he was little, maybe he can’t understand how Gemma could write Stiles off.”

“To be clear, you did tell Dean that he,” Piney pointed to the toddler in his arms. “Was Gemma’s son, right?”

“Who else’s fucking kid would he be?” With the exception of his scowl, which was all Stilinski, the kid looked just like Gemma, in Jax’s opinion at least, Piney never seemed to agree with him on that.

“Apparently no ones.” The old man commented dryly. “I forget sometimes that you’re a natural blond.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Piney shook his head. “You might want to get to work or Gemma’s gonna have your ass.”

“I’m going.”

* * *

 

Dean forced himself to repress the urge to gag and cover his nose as the scent of a fresh corpse hit his nose. The coroner was unbothered by the aroma, obviously having grown use to it over time. His father usually handled autopsies when they were working a case, Dean never had to become accustomed to the smell.

“Where would you like to start, Agent Perry?” Dr. Carnahan asked she set the file she had been reading through on to the counter.

“Cause of death?” He held his official ‘FBI’ notepad in front of him, prepared to write down every detail the coroner could give him.

“Severe burns and smoke inhalation.” She told him while slipping on a pair of latex gloves. “However, the only visible burns on the outside of the body were on the lips.”

“Were there burns on the inside?”

“In the mouth, throat, esophagus, and stomach.” She stated, unzipping the body bag lying on the autopsy table. “Almost like they swallowed a lit match. Although, from the burn pattern, I would say it started in the stomach and made its way up before exiting through the mouth.”

“Aside from that,” He swallowed thickly, trying to shake the image of a child being burned from the inside out from his mind. “Was there anything odd about the bodies? The local police said there were sigils of some kind drawn on the bodies?”

“See for yourself. This one just came in.”

The coroner spread the body bag open to reveal the toddler lying within it. Dean cringed involuntarily, feeling sick to his stomach at the sight. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and refocused on the foreign markings on the child’s body.

“Is that paint or blood?” He gestured to the runes drawn on the infant’s arms in red, doing a quick sketch of them on his pad.

“It was blood on the other victims, but not their blood. Each sigil, as you called it, came from a different donor. If this child’s wounds are consistent with the other victim’s, then these,” The coroner cut open the baby’s shirt to give Dean a full view of the carvings hidden beneath. “Were made with a knife sharp enough to cut into the collar bone and the ribcage. They were made shortly before death.”

“Was there anything in their systems?” Were they drugged? Had they been starved along with burned?

“They were given wine and berries, along with some other herbs the lab is still trying to identify.” She picked up a facemask and a scalpel off the tray, ready to begin the autopsy of the latest victim. “Do me a favor, Agent Perry.”

“I’m listening.”

“Catch whoever is doing this.” She touched a hand to the toddler’s cheek. “I don’t want another child on this table.”

“You can count on it, Dr. Carnahan.”

* * *

 

Working under the hood of a car all day was therapeutic. By the time Jax had finished up for the day, his foul mood from the morning had dissipated. From the looks of things when he walked into the clubhouse at the end of his shift, the same could be said for his little brother.

The jukebox was crooning out an old Pink Floyd song. Stiles was in the middle of the room, flailing his arms wildly and shaking his butt. A small crowd of Sons who clocked out early had gathered around the boy to enjoy the show.

Since the kid has his back turned to him, Jax decided to take advantage of the situation. He crouched down low and snuck up behind the toddler while he was otherwise occupied. He shot his hands out quickly, tickling the boy’s sides. Stiles shrieked in delight, whipping around to face him.

“Jax!” His brother grinned, throwing his arms around Jax’s neck for a hug.

“What were you doing? Dancing?” He hefted the boy up as he stood, resting him on his hip.”Keeping everyone entertained?”

“Yeah.” He bobbed his head, failing to match the beat of the music, but giving it his best effort, before smacking his hands to Jax’s chest. “You dance.”

“Dance? No. I do not dance.” Jax could do a lot of things, but dancing was not one of them. “But I’ll be nice and put music on in the car so you can keep rocking out. Okay? It’s time to go home. Want to say ‘bye’ to everyone?”

“Bye, bye.” The boy waved enthusiastically to his crowd of fans.

“Bye guys.”

Jax picked the diaper bag up off the pool table as they made their way out of the clubhouse and to the parking lot. He sent up a silent prayer that his little brother would not throw another tantrum when being separated from his new friends. He hoped the kid’s good mood would last the rest of the night.

“What a special child.” An elderly woman with flowing white hair appeared out of freaking nowhere in front of him, startling Jax to a stop before they could make it to his car.

“Uh,” His eyes scanned the parking lot, trying to find where the woman had come from or who she was with. “Thank you? Yeah, he’s, uh, special.”

“Eyes like glowing embers,” She extended a hand toward Stiles face, as if she might touch him, Jax took a cautious step back to prevent her from making contact. “To complement the spark of fire kindled in his soul.”

“Um…okay.” He didn’t really have much of a response for that. He didn’t even know if there was a proper response for that.

“Bad.” Stiles thrusted an accusing finger to the stranger. “Bad!”

“Don’t be rude.” Jax chastised the boy while flashing the old woman his best smile. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. He’s a little grumpy because he missed his nap today.”

“What a special child.” She repeated with a blissful expression on her face.

“Right.” He sidestepped the woman in an effort to put distance between them. “Well, bye.”

* * *

 

There was a message waiting at the front desk of the motel when Dean got back. It was a short note from a _Wade Garrett_ that read _‘My place. Anytime after 7p.m. I’ll leave the door unlocked, come right in.’_ Dean had taken enough time to grab the things he had left in his room and to check out before getting back on the road to meet ‘Mr. Garrett.’

 _Wade Garrett_ was an inside joke between he and Jax. He had made the mistake of likening the biker to Sam Elliot’s character from _Road House_ once when they watched the movie together. Honestly, it had more to do with Sam Elliot’s hair than the character itself. Jax had only just begun to grow his out and Dean couldn’t figure out why he found it so hot until they had viewed the film while stoned out of their minds. Jax had taken the likeness as a compliment and it became a thing with them, a sex thing on one occasion, but that was another story.

Dean smiled fondly at the memory as he pulled the Impala into the Teller driveway next to Jax’s bike, much like he had the previous night. He pocketed his keys and tried to appear inconspicuous as he walked up to the front door, not wanting to draw the attention of the nosy neighbors. The door was unlocked, as the note said it would be, allowing Dean to enter without any problems.

The living room and kitchen were both dark and void of any presence. The sounds of a familiar melody floating in from the hallway drew him to the far end of the house. The source of the music was a small boom box sitting on a dresser in a nursery.

In the center of the room was Jax, swaying on his feet in a way that was not unlike dancing. His arms were wrapped protectively around the sleeping toddler curled against his chest. The pair were silhouetted beautifully by the dim light of the corner lamp.

Dean leaned against the door jam, completely captivated by the sight. He had never seen Jax in this particular setting before and it was mesmerizing. It struck Dean now, more than it had the day before in the kitchen, that Jax was a dad now. There was something about seeing Jax hold the boy as if he were the most delicate and precious thing in the universe that cemented that fact into place.

Jax as a father should have been a foreign concept, but the biker seemed perfectly fit for the role. He was so attentive in the way he doted on the child. His love for the toddler was clear in everything move he made regarding the boy.

The audible ‘clack’ of a cassette tape stopping, signaling the end of one side of the tape, snapped both Dean and Jax out of their hazes, though the baby did not stir. Jax turned his head toward the boom box, spotting Dean as he did. He motioned with his fingers for Dean to give him a moment, before returning his focus to the child.

Dean watched as the other man stepped over to the crib and gently laid Stiles down. The toddler mewled in protest, but quieted the moment Jax moved a stuffed giraffe into his arms and pulled the blanket up and around him. The other man smoothed a hand through the boy’s hair and whispered words too low for Dean to hear, something along the lines of _I love you_ and _goodnight_ if Dean were to hazard guess.

He stepped back into the hallway, giving the father space to say what he needed to say to his son. He waited patiently by Jax’s bedroom door, a more telling sign of his intentions than he probably realized.

“You’re a good dad.” He praised when Jax finally exited the nursery, leaving the door slightly ajar as he did so.

“Shut up.” Jax’s face flushed red as if Dean had just embarrassed him. “I didn’t think you’d come after last night.”

“I’m sorry about that.” There was no excuse for the way he had just walked out. “It was a long day on the road. I was tired. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. No worries.” Jax waved off his apology as he sauntered over to him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Well, when Wade Garrett asks me to stop by, how can I say no?” He fluttered his lashes and offered Jax a lopsided grin.

“I thought you’d like that.” Jax smirked, settling his hands on Dean’s hips. “You want some dinner?”

“Nope.” Dinner was definitely the last thing on his mind.

“Want to watch a movie?”

“No.” He grabbed a handful of Jax’s belt, tugging him closer until their hips were flush together.

“Hmm…” Jax brushed their lips together. “Come to bed with me?”

_“Yes.”_

* * *

 

Jax woke to a warm body lying beside him and a phone ringing in his ear. He untangled himself from his lover, earning a growl in response, and blindly smacked a hand at the cordless phone on his nightstand, barely able to make out the ‘answer’ button as he brought it to his ear.

“What?” He snarled into the receiver, pissed off after being woken at such an early hour in the morning.

 _“Jax?”_ Stilinski’s panic-ridden voice greeted him on the other end of the line. _“Jax, are you there?”_

“Yeah. I’m here.” He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb his partner. “It’s like three in the morning here. What’s wrong?”

_“Is Stiles okay? Is he hurt?”_

“What? No. Stiles is fine. He’s asleep.” Which is exactly what Jax should be doing right now. “Why?”

_“Are you sure? You are absolutely sure he is okay?”_

“Yes, I’m sure.”

_“Can you go and check him?”_

“I’m gonna be honest with you, okay? I had the hardest time getting him to bed last night, and when I managed it, he didn’t stay asleep for long. It was a little easier tonight. He went out pretty quickly once I put his tape on.” Of course, he let one side of the tape run all the way through before laying the boy down, just to make sure he was in a deep slumber. “If I go in there, he will probably wake up. I understand that you’re anxious, ‘cause you’re so far away from him, but….”

 _“I haven’t taken a trip since he was born.”_ The father and son had never been this far apart before. _“You think I’m being paranoid.”_

“I think you’re worried, like any parent would be.” It was a natural reaction all parents went through when separated from their child, or at least that’s what Jax thought. “You don’t need to be, though. He is fine. You would have been my first call if he wasn’t. If it makes you feel better, I will call you the minute he wakes up so you can talk to him.”

 _“That would be great.”_ Relief flooded the older man’s tone. _“I’m sorry I bothered you so late. I just had this sick feeling in my gut that something was wrong.”_

“Well, it’s not. He’s good. He’s fast asleep with his giraffe and favorite blanket.” Things had to be a certain way for Stiles to feel at home enough to rest. He needed a specific stuffed animal to cuddle with, to be covered up with a particular blanket, and to have a certain song playing. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll call you in the morning.”

_“Thank you. Goodnight, Jax.”_

“Night.” He ended the call and let the phone roll off the bed, uncaring of where it landed.

He wanted to fall back to sleep, or better yet, to drape himself over Dean, and slip inside him for the third time that night. He couldn’t do either of those things with Sheriff Stilinski’s worry at the forefront of his mind. It would nag and nag at him, keep him from resting peacefully or finding pleasure in his lover’s body.

He sighed tiredly, leaning over to kiss Dean’s naked shoulder before climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He tiptoed down the hall to the nursery, peeking his head through the open door to catch a glimpse of his sleeping brother. His blood ran cold when he couldn’t make out the boy’s form in the crib.

He fumbled with the light switch, hoping the dark was playing tricks on his eyes. The room seemed undisturbed, not a thing out of place except the most important thing. He stumbled over to the crib to get a closer look, as if it were possible for the toddler to be hidden away inside of it somewhere.

“Oh god.” He leaned over the railing of the bed, finding the nothing but his brother’s favorite stuffed animal. “Oh fuck. Oh god.”

“Jax?” Dean’s sleepy-heavy voice and shuffling footsteps sounded behind him. “What’s wrong?”

“That baby’s gone.” He reached in to the crib to pick up the plush giraffe, holding it close to him. “M-My…my…he’s gone. _Stiles is gone_.”

“Calm down.” Dean’s hands landed on his shoulders, anchoring him down. “Maybe he just climbed out of the crib and he’s roaming around the house somewhere.”

“He didn’t climb out of the fucking crib, Dean!” They would’ve heard the ‘thump’ when he hit the ground if that were the case. “He is gone. Someone must have broken in and taken him.”

“Jax-“

“He’s gone.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Warnings: Violence  
> Gif set: [Bring Him Home](http://stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/post/143417683504/charming-wayward-sons-verse-i-have-to-bring-him)
> 
> There is a line in the middle of the chapter that was originally spoken by the Dread Doctors in 5x19 about corrupting something good. I liked the line, it fit in the story, but I won't take credit for it.

It took a hell of a lot more effort than Dean would have thought to convince Jax not to call Charming PD and report Stiles missing. In the end, he had to lie and tell him he had a friend with the FBI who was working a case involving missing children nearby. Jax hadn’t believed a word out of his mouth until Caleb had shown up flashing his badge.

Against his better judgment, Dean had left them alone in the living room so Jax could give his statement in private. He moved to the kitchen, picked the phone up off the counter, and dialed the all too familiar number. It took only two rings for his call to be answered.

 _“Hello?”_ Bobby’s gruff drawl sounded from the other end of the line.

“I need my dad.” He couldn’t help but curse at the way his voice shook as he made his request.

_“Dean? What’s wrong, kid?”_

“Just get my dad, please.” Any other time he would be happy to speak to his uncle about anything, but right now Bobby wasn’t who he needed.

 _“All right. Hold on.”_ There was the distinct rustling of the phone changing hands before a new voice came over the line.

_“Dean?”_

“Dad,” He felt himself relax slightly at the sound of his father’s voice in his ear. “Dad, it’s bad. It’s really bad.”

 _“Calm down, Deano.”_ Fuck, he must really sound like shit if his dad was calling him _Deano_. _“Tell me what happened.”_

“The thing that’s been taking kids,” The monster, which he and Caleb assumed was a witch of some kind, that was kidnapping and murdering children. “It took Jax’s son.”

_“What?”_

“We were sleeping. We didn’t hear anything.” He and Jax both lived lives that required them to be constantly on alert for a threat. They always kept an ear out for trouble, yet they heard nothing when Stiles was taken. “He’s just gone.”

_“Call Caleb-“_

“I did.” He had to in order to keep Charming PD from sticking its nose where it didn’t belong. “He’s talking to Jax now. Dad, what do I do? We have three days and Caleb and I haven’t found anything to tell us where this thing is.”

_“Dean-“_

“I have to find it, Dad. I can’t let it kill Jax’s son.” He couldn’t imagine what that kind of loss would do to Jax.

 _“Bobby, Sam, and I are going to drive down, so we can help you and Caleb find this thing.”_ That was the best news Dean had heard since he and Jax had found the nursery empty.

“You’ll be here soon?” The drive from Sioux Falls to Charming was about twenty-five hours for a normal person, of course his dad and Bobby did not drive like normal people.

 _“As soon as we can, son.”_ His father assured him.

The ‘thump’ of the front door swinging open pulled Dean’s attention to several members of the Sons of Anarchy filing into the house. It wasn’t a shock to see them, Dean knew Jax had contacted them for assistance. The blond was closing the ranks, calling everyone in to put them to work.

“Jax’s friends just showed up. I gotta go, dad.” Once the club was told Stiles was missing, the house would be in utter chaos.

_“I’ll see you in a few hours, son.”_

“Okay.” He hung up the phone and set it back down where he found it, taking a deep breath to prepare himself the oncoming storm.

“Dean,” Caleb patted his shoulder as he came to stand beside him at the counter. “Jax’s story is consistent with the other parents. He said a stranger stopped him while he was leaving the garage yesterday.”

“So what now?” They had been on the case for all of a day and had pretty much zilch when it came to leads.

“I think we need to focus on the sigils. If we can find out what they mean, we can figure out the endgame, and maybe where they’re holding the kid.” Caleb’s suggestion was the smart one, and the only one they had at this point. “We could use some help.”

“Dad and the others are on their way.”

“In the mean time, we have a load of books in my trunk to search through. The faster we find out what the sigils mean, the faster we find the boy. I’m guessing those guys in there, surrounding your buddy Jax,” Caleb nodded to the Sons. “Would be more than willing to pitch in if it meant finding that kid. Maybe it’s time for some Supernatural 101.”

“I don’t know if Jax can handle that particular conversation right now.” The guy had enough on his mind with a missing kid.” But you’re right. The more people we have to help the better.”

“You know how this goes. They are going to think we are insane, especially since we have no proof. We’ll have to be very convincing.”

“Yep.”

* * *

 

Jax sat cross-legged on the carpet of the nursery. He had sketches of sigils spread out in front of him and a book, about things Jax could not really comprehend were real, lying open beside them. He wasn’t focused on those as he should be. He couldn’t really focus on anything beyond what he held in his hands.

It was a ratty old stuffed animal. The once vibrant golden yellow coloring had faded to a paler shade. One of the ears had been torn off, while the thread of the other was matted down by dried drool. There were patches on its legs and back from where it had been stitched back together to keep the stuffing from falling out. The toy had obviously been through a lot.

Jax didn’t lift his head when the nursery door opened for the first time since he had closed himself up inside of it. The heeled boots visible out of the corner of his eye was enough to tell him his mother had come to check on him. She shut the door behind her before joining him on the floor.

“That giraffe was Stilinski’s when he was a kid.” She reached over to tug on the remaining ear of the stuffed animal. “He used to carry it around everywhere, couldn’t even have a sleep over with your uncle Nathaniel without it.”

“Hmm.” If it meant so much to Stilinski, then it made sense that he would pass it on to his son. “Stiles can’t sleep without it. I keep wondering if he’s upset that it’s not with him, if he’s scared without something familiar.”

“Have you called his daddy yet?”

“No. I can’t.” His chest tightened painfully at the thought of calling the older man. “If he knew Stiles went missing under my watch, he would never let me see him again.”

“You will have to tell him eventually.”

“I have three days, less than that now, actually.” If whoever took Stiles stuck to the same time frame as the other victims, then he could put off that call a little longer. “If we can’t find him by then, I’ll be calling to tell him his son is dead.”

“You can’t think like that, baby.” She wrapped a comforting arm around him. “You’ll find him, you and Dean will find him.”

“Do you even want us to?” He sneered, jerking away from her touch. “Or do you hope that he never comes back?”

“How can you ask me that?”

“You could not get away from him fast enough when he was born. You told Stilinski to take him and not bring him back.” She wanted nothing to do with his brother as soon as he was out of the womb, and she had never shied away from that fact. “You were pissed off when Stilinski let me be in his life, ‘cause it kept him in your life. If some monster killed him, you wouldn’t have to see him ever again. Your problem would be solved.”

The sting of her palm making contact with his cheek shocked him far more than she probably expected. He flinched back, fingers grazing the spot on his face she had assaulted. It was the first time in his life that she had ever touched him in anger, but he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, ducking his head, ashamed of how he had spoken to her. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I might not be…accepting of Stiles,” That was an understatement if he’d ever heard one. “But I would never wish harm to him or any other child, and you know that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re scared, I know that. You need to focus.” She dragged the book he was supposed to be looking through closer to him. “If you want your brother back, you have to find him.”

“I don’t know how.” Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision as the helplessness overwhelmed him.

“I lost your uncle Nathaniel when he was five. I took him to the carnival and got distracted by the guy running the dart game. Nathaniel ran off.” She admitted sadly. “I panicked and went crazy looking for him.”

“Where was he?”

“At a concession stand with the Stilinski’s.” She snorted at the memory. “He had gotten bored with me and spotted them in the crowd. Blythe, that’s Stiles paternal grandmother, was busy juggling food and her youngest son, she didn’t even notice an extra boy had joined her.”

“You found him before Grandma and Grandpa could find out.” He doubted she ever told her parents that she had misplaced her brother. Grandpa Nate would have forgiven her easily, while Raging Rose would have taken a belt to her ass. “You found him.”

“I found him by doing the only thing I could do, which was look. Now this is what you can do.” She flipped through the pages of the book. “You find the symbols and you find your brother. That’s what Dean said, right?”

“More or less.” Identifying the sigils might give them more information, but it was not a guarantee that they would find Stiles or the monster that took him.

“Then this is what you gotta do, baby.” She held the book out, urging him to take it. “So do it.”

“Okay.” He set the stuffed giraffe on his lap and took the book from his mother’s hands. “Will you help me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

* * *

 

It was clear from the irritated scowls and under the breath remarks that SAMCRO and company were growing increasingly aggravated. The Sons were men of action, spending several hours searching through books of ancient sigils and runes was a tedious task that grated on their already frayed nerves. They would rather be out in the thick of it, looking for the child the old fashioned way, but as Dean had reminded them, multiple times, that wouldn’t do any good when they had no idea where to begin looking.

Despite the Sons lack of enthusiasm, the research had proved fruitful. They had succeeded in identifying five out of the six symbols so far. They were mostly found in different books, originated in different places, which made them harder to find but it was not impossible.

Aside from the fear of what could be happening to the child clouding their minds, the only other distraction hindering their search was the phone ringing. It was a near constant nuisance that disturbed their concentration. Every so often Piney would check the caller ID, sigh, and allow it continue ringing. No one made a move to answer it.

“Someone’s here.” Opie announced as he pushed back the curtain of the kitchen window, allowing the headlights of a vehicle to shine through.

“Big truck?” Dean asked, not lifting his head from where it was bowed over a book.

“Yeah.”

“It’s my dad.” His old man was earlier than expected. “My brother and uncle should be with him.”

He marked his spot on the page before getting up from the table. He made his way to the door, pulling it open just as his dad was about to knock.

“How’s Jax?” Sam questioned as Dean led them into the living room where the Sons had gathered.

“He’s, uh, he’s in the nursery with his mom.” He wouldn’t hazard a guess of Jax’s mental state. “You guys got here quick.”

“Given the circumstances, we figured time was of the essence.” Bobby reasoned, dropping his gear onto the floor beside the sofa.

“What do you have so far?” His dad inquired, eyeing the books littered across the room.

“We’ve got most of the symbols identified.” Caleb handed over copies of the sigils to the older hunters. “We know their individual meanings, but not what they mean when put all together.”

“Pretty basic stuff,” Bobby noted, doing a quick scan of the document. “Power, soul, life, fire, healing.”

“Why would they paint a sigil for healing on the kids if they’re just going to kill him?” Jax’s hoarse voice brought their gazes to the hall he and his mother were standing in. “Isn’t that a little counterintuitive?”

“They could be healing someone else.” Dean’s father theorized. “Using the children to do that.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” John shook his head. “Maybe the last symbol can tell us that.”

“The last one is weird.” Dean studied the sketch over his dad’s shoulder. “It’s like a combination of a bunch of other sigils.”

“Just three,” Bobby corrected. “It’s taken elements from the fire, life, and soul runes, and made them into one. Since they are also painted on the kids individually, they have to mean something different when blended together.”

“Fire seems to be a reoccurring theme.” Caleb pointed out. “The stranger’s message to the parents was riddled with fire-based subject matter.”

“What exactly was the message?”

“She called Stiles a special child.” Jax recalled, a haunted expression overtaking his features. “She said his eyes were like embers- _glowing_ embers, and that they complemented his soul.”

“ _’Eyes like glowing embers to complement the spark of fire kindled in his soul._ ’” Caleb recited from his journal. “That’s what the other families said.”

“Fire, life, soul…” John mulled over the words for a moment. “ _Spark._ What if that is why they chose these kids? What if these children are sparks?”

“What the hell is a spark?” That wasn’t a term Dean had ever heard in regards to the supernatural. “Is it magic?”

“People born with sparks in their souls are unique. It’s not something noticeable to the naked eye, although some supernatural creatures can sense it.” Bobby explained. “A contact of mine in Beacon Hills, Talia Hale, has a friend whose son is a spark. She sensed it on him when he was only a few days old.”

“It makes them unique, but how?” Jax prompted the hunter to elaborate further. “Is it like Dean said? Is it magic?”

“It’s part of a soul that not everyone has, that is why they are considered unique.” John acknowledged. “Some have speculated that it made them more human than the rest of us, while others have assumed it meant they were closer to supernatural creatures.”

“That clears up fuck all.” Jax snapped harshly, looking at his wits end. “What does it mean?”

“The difference between us and a spark is more internal, emotional. It’s rare for it to become a physical trait. I mean, I’ve heard rumors of their strength of will manifesting physically, but it has to be one hell of a will.” Bobby mused uncertainly. “It’s not magic, though. It’s not good or evil, it just is.”

“We’re not really sure of the specifics. They fly under the radar pretty easily, so not a lot of lore is written on them.” John disclosed, handing the sketches back to Dean. “The ones that have been documented are generally more open-minded. The idea of the supernatural never fazed them. They are more intuitive, they can tell good and evil instinctively, in both humans and the supernatural.”

“When that woman came up to us yesterday, Stiles looked at her and said ‘bad.’” Jax’s voice quivered at thoughts of the previous day. “He repeated it even and I just…I thought he was being a brat because he was tired.”

“You couldn’t have known, baby.” Gemma reached out to squeeze her son’s hand.

“If it ain’t magic, then what use is it to the thing snatching kids?” Chibs brought up a good question.

“After their intuition, their most powerful characteristics would be their ability to adapt and their will to survive.” Bobby shed a light on the sparks nature. “It’s stronger than your average human’s. If the spark is stripped from them, somehow given to someone else, it wouldn’t make the other person a spark, it couldn’t twine with their soul, but it could be used to cure an ailment of some kind.”

“Kids born with sparks grow up.” Piney commented slowly, as if they were all idiots. “So why doesn’t this thing kill adults with it instead of babies?”

“A spark can fade. Most children born with a spark lose it before adulthood.” John revealed and sent a pointed glance to the picture of Stiles hanging on the wall. “Children are innocent. Their souls haven’t been tarnished by the hardships of life. That innocence, that brightness, is what gives the spark its strength. Once that's gone, so is the spark.”

“The brightness or whatever, is that what’s causing them to burn up?” Dean questioned hesitantly, he had been careful not to share the cause of death with Jax after Stiles had been taken. “Is it actually fire when it’s being pulled out of them?”

“It could be.” His dad nodded.

“What if it’s not a physical ailment or sickness that the coven is trying to heal with the spark?’ Sam cut into the conversation for the first time. “You just said the spark is bright like fire. Fire cleanses, that’s why we have funeral pyres. It cleanses and liberates souls. If they are trying to transfer the sparks to someone else, maybe it’s because they’re trying to cleanse that person’s soul.”

“That makes sense, actually.” Caleb voiced his approval of the younger Winchester’s theory. “Maybe they were cursed or the coven believes they’ve gone dark side, and think that evil can only be cleansed by a spark.”

“Wouldn’t killing anyone, especially babies, make the coven evil?” Kozik speculated.

“I didn’t say it was rational.” Caleb shrugged. “If the person they are trying to heal or cleanse is important enough to them, then it wouldn’t matter to them what they did so long as it got results.”

“Chances are, the one they are trying to help is male with brown eyes.” John reckoned. “That is the victim profile. It has to be significant for a reason.”

“So we have a general idea of why,” Dean bit his lip anxiously and let his gaze find Jax once more. “Now we just need to know where.”

“It would need to be isolated, off the grid.” Opie spoke calmly as he assessed the situation. “Kids cry and scream. They would need to be kept where no one could hear them.”

“The people that stopped the parents they day of the kidnapping, their ages ranged from young to old, but most of them were elderly.” Caleb reported, looking over his witness reports. “Wherever the main event is taking place, it has to be easily accessible.”

“It needs vehicle access.” Piney furrowed his brows. “There’s an old dirt road off 580 that leads to an abandon ranger station up in the sticks. In the 50s and 60s, kids would go up there to party. It’s so isolated that JT talked about buying the property and converting the station in the clubhouse when SAMCRO was first starting out.”

“In ’69 the county opened the dump just down the mountain. The stink blew right up to that old station. Smell was so awful, people stopped going up there.” Gemma finished for the old man. “It’s isolated, abandon, and only has that one dirt road that goes up there.”

“Perfect place to hold a kid.” Bobby concluded. “We should check it out.”

“Yeah. Definitely.” Dean agreed, turning to Piney. “Can you give us directions?”

“I’ll take you up there.” The old man offered.

“We’ll all go.” Jax declared, picking his kutte up from where it was draped over the arm of the couch.

“One road up, right? We can’t all go riding up there.” They had to be smart about this. “We are the ones experienced with witches. We will go.”

“If you think I’m staying behind, you are out of your goddamn mind.” Jax snarled. “That is my bro-“

“I know, Jackson. Okay?” He was well aware of the circumstances, of how high the stakes were. “You are too close to it and that is why you have to listen to me and let us handle it.”

“I am not just going to sit here while some asshole is preparing to burn Stiles from the inside out.” He took a few calculated steps toward Dean, squaring his shoulders, prepared for a fight.

“If you go in there with this rage boiling in your veins, you are going to all of us killed, including your kid.” It was hard to feel guilty about putting the stricken look on Jax’s face when that was the reaction he was hoping to elicit. “I will do everything I can to bring your son home, Jackson. Trust me to do that.”

“Stiles isn’t my son, dipshit. He’s my little brother.” Jax revealed, face scrunched up in confusion, as if he was unsure why he had to make the distinction. “And I do trust you, but that kid is my responsibility. I have to bring him home. You of all people should understand that.”

“Jax-“

“What would you do if it were your brother?” Jax growled viciously, thrusting a finger out toward Sam. “You would be out there doing whatever you had to do to get him back.”

“I know how to handle anything that tries to take my brother.” Dean had been trained to protect his brother from anything and everything that could cause him harm. “You’ve known about the supernatural for a couple of hours. You have no idea what you would be walking in to. You’d be in just as much danger as your brother.”

“I don’t care!” Jax yelled, a hint of hysteria in his voice. “I am going. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

“No, there is nothing I can do to change your mind.” However, there was something he could do to prevent Jax from leaving the house. “I’m sorry for this.”

He balled his hand into a fist and swung, punching the other man’s jaw. Jax’s head snapped back, he stumbled into the wall behind him, but stayed on his feet. Dean did not give him a chance to regain his bearings or fight back. He threw his fist out once more, landing a hit just beneath Jax’s eye with enough force to knock him unconscious.

“Okay.” He gazed at the Sons, seeing that some had jumped to their feet at his actions. “He would have gone in half-cocked and put us all at risk.”

“Had to be done.” Gemma surprised the hell out of him by taking his side on the matter. “You’re not taking him, but you are taking the club.”

“We’ll take the van, keep it parked at the end of the road with the lights off.” Piney said, standing up from the couch. “We’ll be your back-up.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll get the car seat out of Jax’s car.” Donna kneeled down beside Jax’s prone form, which was slumped over on the floor, and began digging through his pockets until she found his keys. “The van doesn’t have the proper seating for it, so I’ll just strap it in your car and wait for you there.”

“I’m sorry, what? Wait for me?” Where in the hell did she think she was going?

“Stiles has spent the over a day with strangers. He is going to be scared and freaked out. They will be in the van.” She gestured wildly to the SAMCRO members gearing up to leave. “He has to ride home with you, who he has only met once. I am not letting a baby who was just kidnapped ride home with someone he doesn’t know. I am coming with you.”

“Bu-“

“I will wait in the car while you go up to the ranger station.” Donna made it seem like a compromise but Dean was sure he had no real choice in the matter. “I am going, whether you like it or not. And before you decide to repeat the performance you put on with Jax, you should know that I don’t go down as easily as he does.”

“I, uh, I’m not even sure what to say to that.” Dean was man enough to admit he was more than a little intimidated by Opie’s old lady.

“Say ‘Okay, Donna’ and give me your keys.” She held out her hand expectantly.

“Okay, Donna.” He parroted obediently as he dropped the Impala’s keys into her waiting palm.

“Let me help you with that car seat, darlin.” Bobby offered behind a snicker directed at Dean.

“Dad, you have to stay here.” His dad’s broken leg would impede the rescue and keep them from making a speedy getaway. “Sam, you are staying here too.”

“I can help.” His brother argued petulantly.

“The coven has a thing for brown eyed boys.” Sam’s age and lack of spark were irrelevant to Dean given the witches predilection for dark orbs. “You’re staying here with Dad and Gemma. Everyone who is coming with us needs to load up now.”

* * *

 

Jax came to with identical throbbing pains in his cheek and jaw. He groaned as he forced his eyes open, finding himself staring at the ceiling of his living room. The soft cushions beneath him were enough to tell him he was draped over the couch.

“Here.” Was the only warning he received before a pack of ice was smacked not so gently against his face.

“Thanks.” He grumbled, tracing the packs path of origin to find Sam Winchester. “Your brother knocked me out, didn’t he?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck!” He yanked the ice pack off his face and threw it against the nearest wall, relishing in the way it ricocheted off and broke open. “Stupid son of a bitch.”

“I’m not cleaning that up.” His mother muttered, smacking his legs until he moved them so she could sit at the other end of the couch.

“Did that make you feel better?” John questioned from his place in the armchair. “You don’t have time to catch up with Dean and your friends. They would already have made it to the ranger’s station by now.”

“I can’t just…” He tugged on a clump of his hair in frustration as he sat up from his reclined position. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You can answer this,” Sam held out the ringing cordless phone receiver. “It’s been going off since we got here.”

“It’s been going off all day.” Jax corrected, eyeing the device as if it were Pandora’s Box.

“Piney told us to leave it alone.” John told him. “Who is it that keeps calling?”

“It’s Stiles dad.” When Jax had failed to call him when Stiles woke up, as he had promised to, the older man had begun to call him.

“You haven’t told him about this son.” John deduced, disapproval heavy in his tone.

“I can’t.” He didn’t even know how he would start that conversation if he did find the courage to answer the phone. “This is the first time he’s let me watch Stiles longer than a night. If he knew I’d lost him…”

“What’s to stop him from just coming over to make sure everything is okay?”

“He’s in Virginia for some military thing.” The distance was a goddamn blessing in disguise. “I don’t think they will just let him leave.”

“If it’s a family emergency they will.” John rolled up his sleeve to reveal his USMC tattoo, a visual reminder of his own military service. “The longer you don’t answer the phone, the more he is going to believe that is a real possibility.”

“He knew something was wrong. He called me last night. He was convinced something had happened to Stiles. I thought it was separation anxiety or something.” He had brushed off Stilinski’s worry as if it were nothing. “I told him Stiles was fine, sleeping peacefully. When I hung up the phone and checked on Stiles…he was just gone. I don’t know how his dad knew, but he did.”

“A parent always knows.” The elder Winchester’s gaze flickered to his youngest son.

“Did you?” Jax glanced at his mother. “Did you wake up in a cold sweat, knowing that something was wrong with your baby?”

“He’s not my baby.” She was always so cold when she denounced her claim to Stiles. It made Jax wonder what had changed with her from the time he and Thomas were born to when Stiles had come into the world. “I didn’t wake up in fear. I slept perfectly fine.”

“Right.” The saddest part about that was that he actually believed it.

“Jax,” John thumped a crutch against the floor bring Jax’s attention back to him. “You need to answer the phone and tell Stiles father whatever it is he needs to hear to put him at ease.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He took the phone from Sam, pressing the answer button as he put it up to his ear. “Hello?”

 _“Jackson,”_ The man’s brusque tone had Jax cringing involuntarily. _“Do you have any idea how long I have been calling?”_

“Not really, no. We got home late.” He lied easily, hoping the deputy would buy it. “Stiles woke up full of energy, so we spent the day at the park so he could run it off. We had dinner at Opie and Donna’s, fell asleep on their couch watching movies.”

_“Where is my son, Jackson?”_

“He’s dead to the world.” He cursed his own wording when he realized what the implications of those words would be if Dean did not make it to Stiles on time. “I put him straight to bed when we got home. He was exhausted. He probably won’t wake up until morning.”

 _“You were supposed to call me this morning.”_ Stilinski reminded him curtly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He had one excuse, but it was not one he could give. “I can call you later, when we get up and around.”

 _“You will call me the minute my son wakes up. I do not care what time it is. If I don’t hear from you by 8:00a.m., your time, I will be on the first flight to California.”_ He was confident it was a simple warning, but Jax could hear the underlying threat beneath it. _“Is that understood, Jackson?”_

“Yes sir.” That was probably the first time he had ever called anyone ‘sir’ in a way that was not sarcastic. “I will call you as soon as he wakes up. I promise.”

 _“I’m gonna hold you to that.”_ Stilinski mumbled, voice dull, tired, and full of stress. _“He’s asleep?”_

“Yep.” It was quite possible that wasn’t a lie. His brother could be sleeping, wherever he was.

 _“Will you just…give him a kiss for me?”_ The desperation in his tone nearly had Jax saying ‘fuck all’ to his bullshit story and spilling his guts to the older man. _“Can you do that, please?”_

“Yeah. I can do that.” Just as soon as he had his brother back. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”

 _“Yeah.”_ Stilinski sighed. _“Bye, Jackson.”_

“Bye.” He pulled the phone away from his ear, pressed the ‘end’ button, and dumped it on the sofa. “That felt shitty. I think the only person who ever called me _Jackson_ so consistently was Grandma Rose.”

“Do you think he bought it?” John questioned, his concern for another father’s wellbeing barely masked under his deep tone. “Or do you think he is on his way to the airport?”

“I don’t know.” Stilinski could have been spinning a tale just as Jax had been. “Does it matter? Even if he gets on the next flight out, Dean and the others should be back before the plane lands.”

“They should be.”

“Then we just have to wait and see who shows up first.”

* * *

 

The sun was beginning to rise when everyone got into place outside the rangers station. The light made it all the more difficult to keep hidden. They were forced to park the vehicles in the woods on account of the end of the road being far too visible.

Dean, Bobby, and Caleb set off on foot to the station, leaving the Sons to spread out in random intervals around the perimeter. Donna was left waiting in the Impala and Piney in the van. Their bases were more or less covered.

“I’ll take the front.” Bobby volunteered, checking the clip of his gun for the second time since they left the cars. “Caleb, you take the back. Dean, look for a side entrance.”

“Got it.”

“Go in only if it is safe.” Bobby ordered, eyes trained on Dean. “Do not make a move without thinking it through first. It will only put that little boy in danger.”

“I know.” He wasn’t an idiot, reacting on emotion could get them all killed. “Let’s do this.”

Dean kept low to the ground as they split up. He got right up next to the house, mindful of booby traps as he went. The first window he peered through gave him a clear view of the main room. He could make out a good portion of the coven gathered in a circle, surrounding something or someone that he could not see.

The second window was his way in. He jimmied the lock with his knife and hoisted himself up and onto the windowsill. The wooden floor of the office he found himself in made an ungodly creak as his feet made contact with it. He used a book sitting on the desk to keep the window open, just in case he needed to make a quick exit.

He did his best to keep his footsteps light, to prevent further creaking, as he made his way to door with his pistol drawn. He sent up a small prayer, with a tiny hope that someone was listening, as he twisted the doorknob. He tugged it open just far enough to peek out to the large open room of the station.

The altar was to the left of him, near the back door Caleb would be coming through. There were flowers, lit candles, and talismans adorning it. There were photographs sitting upon it, in carved wooden frames. One was of a younger man looking bright and vibrant, the other an elderly man seeming ancient and decrepit. The men in the pictures resembled each other so closely, especially with their amber eyes, that it was easy to determine they were the same person.

Dean turned his focus from the altar to the coven. The witches and warlocks had joined hands and were chanting in Latin. In the center of their circle was another altar of sorts, candle and flowers like the other, yet instead of photographs and talismans, they were surrounding another man and Stiles.

The man was nearly identical to the young man in the photograph. The only noticeable differences were the graying hair, washed out skin, and milky film over his eyes. His sickly appearance told Dean that it was him they were doing the ritual for, he was the reason the coven needed Stiles and the other boys.

The toddler was sitting on the floor beside the young man. He had been stripped of his shirt, bloody sigils painted up and down his arms. There were fat tears rolling down his cheeks and his breath hitched with short puffs. He clutched a blanket in his hands, one Dean recognized Jax covering him up with before putting him to bed the night before. His eyes were darting every which way, taking in the faces of his captors, roaming over the ritual items surrounding him, eventually finding Dean in the doorway of the office.

Dean brought a finger up to his lips, a silent gesture for the boy to keep quiet. The boy copied the move his own way, shoving his index finger into his mouth. Dean took advantage of the kid’s obedience, covering his eyes next, because the last thing he wanted was for the boy to witness what would happen next. Stiles mimicked that his own way as well, yanking his blanket up and over his head, successfully blocking his view of the carnage that was sure to follow.

They boy’s sudden movement didn’t go unnoticed by the coven, whose chanting had tapered off as they gazed at the child suspiciously. Dean, Bobby, and Caleb all seemed to have the same idea to use the coven’s distraction to bust out of their hiding spots, ready to tackle the coven head on.

“All right now,” Bobby held up his hands in surrender. “We don’t want any trouble. We just want the boy.”

“He’s been chosen.” A woman, considerably younger than the others, stepped forward to address them. “His sacrifice will heal a powerful soul. It will not be in vain.”

“How many sacrifices were made to heal you?” Dean asked, forcing himself to remain steady as all eyes swiveled in his direction. “You’ve got this out of place strip of white mixed in with your brown hair. You aren’t healing anyone. You’re using their sparks to reverse your aging.”

“Growing old is just another sickness. We would have died without those sacrifices.” Her blue eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “We are not evil, as you suspect. We help people. We have saved more lives than you could ever hope to. We will do more good than the children ever would.”

“You don’t know that.” They had not even given the kids a chance to live, to become whoever they were supposed to become. “They could have helped people too, saved lives.”

“They could have been the worst evil you have ever faced.” The witch spit out, temper flaring, the flames of the candle shooting up high to complement her rage. “Their sparks could have burned down the world.”

“Sparks aren’t good or evil.” Bobby repeated what he had said at Jax’s house earlier in the night. “They’re neutral.”

“You’re a fool, believing you could understand what a spark is. They are pure light.” And as they all knew, light was a universal symbol of goodness. “True evil only comes by corrupting something truly good.”

“So you chose _these_ kids because they could have been corrupted by evil later in life?” Dean gritted his teeth and raised his gun a little higher, understanding now why the boys were taken. “Does that make you feel better about killing babies? You justify it by believing you’re neutralizing a potential threat?”

“I can see you.” She ignored Dean in favor or whipping her head toward Caleb, who was slowly making his way to the altar. “We are doing the world a service, just as you do when you hunt monsters.”

“We are nothing alike, sister.” Dean was incredibly offended by the insinuation that they were. “We came for the kid. We’re not leaving without him.”

“You think you are powerful enough to stop us?” She scoffed. “Such a simple child, aren’t you? You forget that we are human. All witches are. You hunters protect humans, it’s what you do.”

“You’re killing babies to stay young. You aren’t even close to being human.” They may look the part but their lack of humanity made them anything but human. “We are the ones neutralizing a threat here.”

“You might get one or two of us, but there are more of us than what you see in this room.” She spread her arms wide to gesture to her coven. “We will survive, complete our ritual, move on, and continue doing our good work.”

“You know, some of these talismans look really old,” Caleb ran a finger over the one hanging between the pictures on the altar. “I’m thinking they’re important to the ritual. It would probably put a kink in your plans if it were all destroyed. Should we find out?”

The hunter gripped the side of the hutch the altar was set up on and gave it a good shove, sending it and its contents to the ground. The candles trapped between the floor and the hutch set the wood of the cabinet ablaze. All in all, a pretty effective way to destroy everything that made up the altar.

The destruction set off the coven, as they knew it would. Bobby shot first, when a warlock made an ill-fated move to retaliate against Caleb. Caleb in turn fired the next shot, killing a witch glaring at Bobby with a lethal look in her eyes. The gunfire spooked the coven perhaps more than their beloved altar being destroyed, they were obviously not accustomed to hunters interrupting their rituals with violence.

“Salvage what you can from the altar.” The woman who had been speaking to them pushed two coven members toward the wreckage. “Grab the boy and let’s go.”

“No!” Dean aimed and fired a shot at the witch’s head before he even realized he was doing it.

“Starr!” The young man from the photograph shouted as the woman’s body hit the ground.

“I’m sorry, but _Starr_?” Dean guffawed at the mad witch’s clichéd name. “And who are you, _Moonbeam_?”

Moonbeam drew his lips back in a sneer like a rabid dog. He shot a hand out, grabbing Stiles roughly by the arm and yanking him up, causing the blanket over Stiles head to slip off. Dean took several steps toward them, shoving through several scrambling coven members in an effort to get to the boy, but Stiles acted first. The toddler screamed at the top of his lungs, like a fucking war cry, before sinking his teeth into his assailants arm.

Moonbeam howled in pain, dropping the child and gripping his new injury. Dean dashed to the boy, dragging him up from the floor and into his arms. He forced the child’s head into crook his neck to block his view of the violence going on around him, belatedly snatching the blanket off the floor to assist in that task.

“This place is going up quick!” Caleb yelled as he fired his weapon, motioning to the growing fire. “Bobby and I will hold them back. Dean, get that kid out of here now!”

“Go on, boy!” Bobby urged. “Out the way you came. Go!”

“Yeah. I’m going.” It didn’t feel right leaving his friends in battle alone, but the kid took priority. “Be careful!”

He shifted the child in his arms and made a run for the office he had come in though. The window he had rigged open provided as easy route out. The short drop to the dirt jostled the boy enough to have him whining in protest, but Dean didn’t have time to worry about that.

He broke into a jog as he hit the tree line, needing to get as far away from the from the ranger's station as possible. He past Sons on his way through the forest, saw the visible relief on their faces when they caught sight of Stiles. He didn’t stop to chat, only taking a moment to tell them to stay where they were until Bobby and Caleb were safely out of the station, before he darted down the path to the Impala.

Donna swung the door of the vehicle open as soon as they were visible in her line of sight. She opened her arms expectantly and Dean was more than happy to hand the child off to her as soon as he was near.

“Hi, my sweet boy.” She murmured softly to the toddler, pulling the blanket off his head so she could see his face. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Daddy!” Stiles sobbed, tears and snot cascading down his face.

“Oh, honey, I know.” She cooed, rubbing his back soothingly. “Bad people took you. Of course you want your daddy to make you feel safe.”

“Get him in the car. I want to be able to move out once the others get here.” Dean did not want to stay at the station any longer than they had to.

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Jax was not the type to pace when he was stressed out, but honestly there wasn’t much else he could do. Sitting on the couch, bouncing his leg up and down nervously, only aggravated the other occupants of the house. Even if he was the type to stress clean, his mother already had that covered, she had busied herself scrubbing the kitchen while the others were away, bitching about how he needed to learn to clean up after himself as she did it. All Jax could really do was walk the length of the living room while the Winchester’s scrutinized his every move.

It was an hour before the familiar growl of the Impala’s engine sounded from the end of the block. Jax was out the door and waiting on the sidewalk before Dean could park at the curb. The car was barely stationary when Jax wrenched open the back passenger side door.

“Out. Out. Out.” He ushered Donna, who was sitting between the car seat and the door, out of the Impala.

“Calm down, Jax. He’s okay.” She assured him even as she climbed out of the car.

Jax more or less pushed her the rest of the way out so he could get to his brother in a timelier fashion. He was gentler with the toddler, who was fast asleep in his seat, wrapped up in Dean’s faded brown leather jacket and his dirt covered blanket. He reached in to unbuckle the straps, unintentionally waking the child up.

“No!” Stiles batted his hands out at Jax, eyes squeezed shut, and panic written on his features. “No! No! No!”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He cupped a hand to his brother’s cheek, caressing his thumb over his skin. “It’s just me, buddy. You’re safe now.”

He lifted the boy out of the car carefully, cradling him in his arms as the child cried. He kicked the door shut and caught Dean’s eye over the hood of the Impala.

“You and I are gonna talk about this later.” He promised, and if _talk_ sounded like _fight_ then Dean would just have to deal with it.

He observed the van pulling into the driveway as he carried his brother into the house. He sat the boy on the couch and got to his knees in front of him so they were eye-level. He hoped remaining where Stiles could see him would help him relax.

He kept his movements slow as he slipped the leather jacket off the kid’s shoulders. He left the blanket pooled around his waist and began inspecting his bare chest and arms. Thankfully, the coven had not been given the opportunity to carve into him, having only had the time to paint the sigils on his skin. The worst injury Jax could find was a bruise forming on Stiles forearm.

“Does that hurt, buddy?” He skimmed his fingers over the discoloration, watching his brother flinch at the contact. “I’m sorry, little man.”

“Want Daddy.”

“You wanna talk to your dad? We can do that.” Jax reached blindly for the phone, pressing redial on the last incoming call.

_“Hello?”_

“Stiles is awake. He really wants to talk to you.” Jax was so fucking grateful his brother was still around to speak to anyone. “He woke up from a bad dream, though, so he’s really upset.”

 _“Put him on, Jackson, please.”_ Stilinski pleaded, a mixture of relief and distress lacing his tone. _“Please.”_

“Hey buddy,” He smiled at his brother. “Ready to talk to your dad?”

“Daddy!” The boy squawked impatiently, making grabby hands at the receiver.

Jax adjusted the phone to Stiles ear, helped lift one of his pudgy hands up so he could hold it himself. He listened to the boy jabber to his father for a few minutes before he stood up from the floor. He took notice of how full the living room was now compared to how it had been when he had come in, noticing one person in particular.

“Dean,” He singled out the other man who was speaking in low tones to Sam and John. “Let’s talk.”

Jax trusted his friends to look after his brother as he made a beeline for his bedroom. Dean followed, as expected, closing the door behind him to give them a semblance of privacy. As soon as Jax heard the audible ‘click’ of the latch, he rounded on the hunter, slamming him roughly against the door.

“If you ever get between me and protecting my little brother again, I will kill you.” He shoved his forearm to Dean’s throat to accentuate his point. “You had no right to keep me out of it. I should have been there to help, to protect him. You ever pull that shit again--"

“Hopefully, I will never have to do it again, ‘cause nothing like that will ever happen to you or him again.” Dean reached a hand to wrap his fingers delicately around the arm on his neck. “I’m sorry I hit you, that I kept you from him. I thought it was for the best. I did what I had to do to bring your brother home safely.”

“Thank you.” He released moved his hand from Dean’s throat, instead choosing wrap it around his neck and lean in to press their foreheads together. “Thank you for saving him, for bringing him home. You have no idea what that means to me.”

“Yes, I do. I’m a big brother too.” Dean reminded with a thoughtful smile.

“Before you two move on to the make-up sex,” Opie’s voice filtered through the door. “Stiles is off the phone and he could use a scrub down before he conks out. You want Donna or I to do it?”

“No, I’ll do it. We’ll be out in a minute.” Jax took a step back from Dean before one of them could start something they couldn’t finish. “Will you stick around tonight?”

“Yeah.” The other man nodded. “I’ll send my dad and the others to a motel, so they can get some sleep.”

“I’ll get the kid cleaned up and crash. Fair warning, the boy is going to end up in bed with me.” There was no way in hell Jax was leaving him in the nursery all by himself. “So, if you plan to join us, no funny stuff.”

“Got it. I’ll be good. Scouts honor.”

* * *

 

Sons and hunters began trudging out of the house the same way they had trudged in the morning before. Soon it was only Dean, Opie, and Donna left in the living room. Dean decided to wander the house not long after the couple had fallen asleep on the sofa, eventually finding himself in the open doorway of the bathroom.

The tub was filled to the brim with bubbles. Stiles was having the time of his life splashing around and playing with a little tugboat toy. Jax was sitting on the linoleum beside the bath, knees drawn to his chest and head lolled against the wall behind him. He looked fucking exhausted.

“So,” Dean settled his hip against the sink. “He’s not your kid.”

“Definitely not my kid.” Jax chuckled. “I’m still not sure why you thought he was.”

“Well, toys strung out, nursery, kid in your house that you obviously love very much….” It was easy to see how Dean had jumped to conclusions. “I’m guessing from his lack of presence that Clay is not his father. Not that it’s my business.”

“Gemma took advantage of the prison clause while Clay was locked up. A couple months later, this little guy came along.” Jax extended a hand to run it through the boy’s wet locks. “Nathaniel Thomas, named for our uncle and the big brother he’ll never know. _Stiles_ is a play on his last name.”

“His dad’s a good guy?”

“He is.” He had Jax’s approval, that had to mean something. “He really loves Stiles. And he let me be in his life even when Gemma….”

“That’s nice of him.” Dean wasn’t about to broach the Gemma subject when it obviously made Jax uncomfortable. “When I watched you put him to bed before, I said you were a good dad. I guess I should change that to big brother.”

“I could’ve lost him today.”

“But you didn’t.” That was all that really mattered in the end.

“I can’t, Dean.” Jax shook his head, tears filling his eyes. “I can’t lose another brother. I already lost Thomas. I can’t lose Stiles too.”

“You won’t lose him.” Dean would do everything humanly possible to prevent that and he knew Jax would as well. “You didn’t lose him today, Jackson. He’s still here. He’s right there.”

“I know.” He smoothed hand through the toddler’s hair once more. “That’s because of you, Dean. You brought him home. Thank you.”

“You already said that.”

“I’m saying it again. _Thank you.”_

“Any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: History repeats itself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Warnings: Crude language, sexual situations, underage (Stiles is 17).  
> Gif set: [Awful Person](http://stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/post/143956574974/charming-wayward-sons-verse-awful-person-stiles)  
> Timeline:  
>  _Sons of Anarchy:_ Set during 2x03 - Fix. Some comments made by characters address Gemma's rape. A few lines were taken directly from the episode, although I did change some as well.  
>  _Supernatural:_ Set after 4x06 Yellow Fever. Brief mention to Dean's time in Hell.  
>  _Teen Wolf:_ Set early season 2.
> 
> If you've read my Son Shine stories you know Stiles and Gemma have issues with one another but are sort of drawn together when one of them are hurt. They have an incredible protective instinct toward one another. Because this chapter is set after Gemma's assault, what she wrote off as a car accident to everyone, that protectiveness is going to be prominent.

Abel’s crying was something Jax had grown accustomed to since he had come home. The baby kept a pretty regular schedule, waking up at the same time every morning. Jax did his best to wake up at least an hour earlier than the boy, so he didn’t cry for long before Jax was there to comfort him.

“What’s up, little man?” He smiled down at his son as he lifted him out of the crib. “Let’s get that butt changed. Okay?”

He laid his son out on the changing table and made quick work of the dirty diaper. Abel kicked up a fuss, as he usually did during the first change of the day. He didn’t pee on Jax, so he was counting that as a win for the morning.

“There we go.” Jax snapped the buttons of the onesie and bundled his son into his arms. “Should we see if uncle Stiles is awake?”

Stiles was usually the first one up in the morning, a force of habit during the school year. It was only in the summer that the kid allowed himself to sleep in. Considering the semester had recently started, Jax fully expected to find him up and around, working his way through his third cup of coffee. However, when he pushed the teenagers bedroom door open, he was surprised to see that it was empty.

The kid’s backpack was slung over the chair, his laptop closed on the desk, a layer of dust covering the lid as if it had not been touched for some time. There was a textbook open on the bed, a variety of highlighters spread out beside it. It was the same scene Jax had come across the last couple of weekends Stiles had stayed in Charming. The teenager might have been in town, but he hadn’t been spending his nights in his own bed at Jax’s house.

“Remind me to have a talk with your uncle about his sleepovers with Juice.” He instructed his son as he closed the bedroom door. “I guess it’s just you and me for breakfast.”

He made his way to the kitchen, taking a clean bottle and half-empty can of baby formula out of the cupboard. He juggled his son in his arms as he mixed the ingredients together and placed the bottle on the warmer. He leaned on the counter to wait it out, flinching when his cellphone blared loudly in the quiet room and vibrated against his hip.

“Shit. Sorry, buddy.” He shifted Abel over to one arm and reached into his pocket for his phone, bringing it up to his ear. “Hello?”

 _“Hey.”_ Dean’s voice filtered over the line. _“How’s it going?”_

“Good. It’s good.” He grinned to himself, happy to hear from the other man. “We just got up.”

 _“Oh yeah? How’s my favorite little guy doing?”_ A few months ago, Jax might’ve assumed Dean was talking about his dick and would have been mildly offended at being called little. Of course, he knew better now and was well aware of who Dean was asking about.

“He’s good. He’s eating.” He moved the phone between his ear and shoulder, so he could reach his free hand out to grab the bottle from the warming device. “Are you okay? You didn’t call last night.”

Since Dean’s miraculous return from the dead, the twilight phone calls between them had become a regular occurrence. Dean found it hard to rest after spending forty years in the pit. He would wake up in the middle of the night, visions of hell behind his eyelids. He had taken to calling Jax rather than trying to fall back to sleep. Jax waited for the phone to ring every night so he could help Dean find some peace.

 _“I didn’t sleep.”_ Dean admitted, exhaustion heavy in his tone. _“Been on the road all night.”_

“Heading anywhere special?”

_“I hear Charming’s nice this time of year.”_

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Jax glanced out the window over the sink to see the sun shining brightly. “You’re in town?”

 _“I will be in a few hours.”_ That wasn’t soon enough, in Jax’s opinion. _“What’s your day look like?”_

“I’m gonna hang out with Abel for a bit.” He was grateful his schedule afforded him that time, he normally couldn’t fit it in around his club duties. “There’s a Caracara wrap party tonight. I promised LuAnn that I would be there. You wanna come?”

 _“A porn studio’s wrap party? I’ll be there.”_ The ‘duh’ was left unsaid, but clear in Dean’s voice. _“I’ll probably stop by TM when I get to town. The Impala needs a tune up. You gonna be around?”_

“It’s a good possibility.” He tried to put in a few hours a day to earn his paycheck. “Sam with you?”

 _“Not this time.”_ That wasn’t abnormal, Sam did not enjoy Charming the same way Dean did. _“He’s doing research with Bobby. Why?”_

“Oh, I was just going to say if he was with you, he could crash in Stiles room.” It would save them money on a motel. “Stiles hasn’t been using it.”

_“You two fighting or something?”_

“No. He’s just found somewhere better to sleep.” To be fair, Jax would choose to sleep in bed with Dean instead of alone any day of the week. He couldn’t fault his brother for making the same choice with his significant other. “You’re not driving right now, are you?”

 _“No,_ Dad _, I’m not driving and talking on the phone like an idiot.”_ Dean chuckled. _“I stopped at a diner for some food. I’m about to get back on the road.”_

“I’ll let you get to it then. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

 

Stiles woke up with a cramp in his neck, as he had most mornings since he had begun sleeping in the recliner at Gemma and Clay’s house. He cracked his neck and forced his eyes open, noticing the vacant couch with blankets folded neatly on the cushions. He swiveled his head toward the dining room, finding Gemma at the table feeding seeds to her bird.

“Morning,” He greeted as he stood from the chair, stretching his limbs as he ambled into the kitchen.

“Morning, baby.” She lifted her head to offer him a brief smile. “There was no gun on your lap last night.”

“Ankle holster.” He wiggled his right ankle, the bulk of the weapon strapped to it showing beneath his pant leg. “I didn’t hear you get up last night.”

“I slept all the way through.” The full nights rest did not erase the dark circles beneath her eyes.

“That’s progress.” Stiles praised, knowing she had not slept properly since her ‘car accident.’ “What’s on the schedule for today?”

“I’ve only got my office work at the garage.” She told him as he went about pouring himself a cup of coffee. “You know, sweetheart, I don’t need you to look after me. I’m okay. I promise.”

“I don’t mind.” He assured her, taking a seat across from her at the table. “I can put in some hours at the garage. I’m sure most of your mechanics are going to be otherwise occupied today.”

“That new ‘business venture’ is taking up a lot of their time.” Gemma shook her head as Stiles cellphone began to ring.

“Sorry.” He checked the caller ID on the phone, grinning when he saw it was someone he actually wanted to talk to, before answering the call. “Hey Juice.”

 _“Hey! Where are you?”_ The other man’s voice was barely discernible over the ‘thwap’ of skin against skin echoing over the line.

“I’m at Gem’s.” He figured Juice would know that by now, it was where Stiles had been spending his nights. “I can guess where you are. Caracara?”

 _“Yeah.”_ There was no hiding the obvious delight in Juice’s tone. _“You should come over. Lyla’s filming a_ Mad Men _porn-parody thing.”_

“I’m gonna pass.” Stiles liked porn as much as the next guy, but watching it being filmed felt like crossing a line. “You do know those ladies are working, right?”

 _“Lyla’s about to work a wine bottle up this guy’s ass.”_ There was a visual he did not need.

“Jesus Christ.” He scrubbed a palm down his face, trying to erase that imagery from his mind. “She does not need you gawking at her while she’s working.”

 _“If it bothered her, she’d say something, I think.”_ Juice reasoned, sounding distracted by what he was viewing. _“So you’re not coming over?”_

“No. You have fun, though.” From the background noise Stiles could hear over the phone, Juice and whoever he was with were having a jolly old time. “See you at work later?”

“His ass better be at work later.” Gemma muttered into her coffee cup. “We’ve been short staffed since they opened that damn studio.”

“Scratch that. Gemma says you _have_ to be at work later.” Stiles relayed the matriarch’s message to the Son.

 _“I’ll be there. I’ll even bring Chibs with me.”_ Juice volunteered the Scot, who was more than likely the one at the studio with him. _“We’ll be there once Lyla’s done with the big finish.”_

“See you later.” Stiles ended the call and dropped his phone onto the table. “How much do you think LuAnn is regretting going into business with SAMCRO?”

“I think her feelings on that vary depending on which Sons have invaded her studio on any given day.” Gemma acknowledged. “I don’t need a babysitter. You can go join Juice at Caracara If you want to. Getting a behind the scene look at porn being filmed is like a teenage boys dream.”

“Not mine.” It didn’t interest him in quite the same way it did the other guys. “I don’t know, watching it being made seems more perverted than watching the final product online.”

“Yeah, well, your boyfriend is one of those ‘perverts’ now.” She pointed out with a smirk. “What does that say about your taste in men?”

“Juice used to flush women’s underwear down the toilet at the clubhouse.” He was well acquainted with his lover’s kinks. “I knew what I was getting into when we started seeing each other.”

“I knew he was the one doing that.” She huffed, pursing her lips. “Now that I have confirmation, I’m taking money out of his paycheck for back payments on all the plumbing bills.”

“Just don’t tell him I told you. I will vehemently deny it.” It was not hard to figure out the culprit of the toilet clogging. Juice and Tig were the only ones with panty fetishes. The latter would hold onto them for reasons Stiles did not want to think about, which only left the former. “And, a little pervy or not, I still have better taste in men than you.”

“Watch it.” She warned, nodding to the hall where Clay was trudging in from the bedroom.

“He only proves my point.” He mumbled under his breath while his eyes tracked Clay’s movements as the older man fixed himself a cup of coffee before taking a seat at the head of the table.

“You slept on the couch against last night.” Clay observed, not even sparing a glance to Stiles, focused solely on his wife.

“It’s been three weeks and I still got a lot of pain.” Gemma wrapped an arm around her middle, a gesture to signal pain in her ribs from the ‘accident.’ “I didn’t want to keep you up with my tossing and turning.”

“You should go to the doc,” Clay suggested. “Get some meds.”

“I don’t need meds,” She shook her head. “Just need some time.”

“How much time?” Clay questioned impatiently.

“I gotta get to work.” Gemma grumbled, standing from her seat.

“We’re talking.” Clay slapped a palm onto the tabletop, as if that might get her to sit back down and continue the conversation.

“And we’re short staffed at TM since pussy started taking precedence over everything else.” She snapped harshly, stalking into the kitchen to dump her coffee and grab her purse.

“You’ve been attached to her hip lately,” The older man narrowed his eyes in Stiles direction. “You know what’s going on?”

“Yep.”

“You wanna share it with me?”

“Have I ever shared anything with you that wasn’t my active disdain?” Stiles shot the SAMCRO pres a shit-eating grin. “On second thought, I will share _something_ with you.”

“I’m listening.” He sat back in his chair to give Stiles his attention.

“I think you are a truly awful person and I hope you die bloody.” Stiles knew Clay wanted information on Gemma. It was too bad the only thing Stiles was willing to give him was his personal opinion on the kind of man Clay was, and his wishes for the future. “Oh, hey, you got a two-for-one there. Was that enough sharing for you, Clay?”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Let’s go, Stiles!” Gemma ordered as she wrenched the door open.

“Yeah. I’m coming.”

* * *

 

Jax was forced to leave Abel with the nanny after a phone call from Chibs about problems at Caracara. He did not appreciate being pulled away from his son for bullshit about Clay assigning Bobby Elvis to do the books at the studio, without LuAnn’s approval. That was not the kind of thing you just sprung on a business partner.

When he finished doing what he could to soothe the porn diva’s ruffled feathers, he fully expected to head home, so he could spend more time with his kid. Instead, he somehow found himself being talked into comforting Ima, who was convinced Georgie Caruso was following her. He really must have been a sucker for a damsel in distress, because he allowed her to lead him to a nearby sofa so she could cry on his shoulder.

“You got no reason to be scared, darling.” Jax gave her his best smile of reassurance. “We’re here to keep you safe.”

“I don’t know why I’m so freaked out,” Ima pushed her body close to his, nuzzling his neck with her nose. “I was terrified.”

“Jax,” Tig poked his head through Caracara’s doorway. “Mom and Dad are getting ready to brawl in the parking lot.”

“Shit.” Jax jumped off the sofa and bolted for the door.

The first thing he saw once he was outside was the broken driver side window of Gemma’s Cadillac SUV, probably smashed by Clay, if the way he was punching his fists into the hood and grill of the vehicle meant anything. Gemma stood a few feet away, her body shaking with anger. Stiles was off to the side, looking ready to intervene at any moment.

“Just what those arthritic mitts need,” Gemma yelled at her husband. “A good pounding!”

“You want to see a good pounding?” Clay snarled, rounding on the woman.

Clay could only take half a step forward before Stiles was on him. The teenager grabbed two handful of Clay’s kutte and slammed him back against the SUV. Clay raised a fist, prepared to swing at the kid when Gemma gripped the collar of Stiles shirt and yanked him behind her.

“Come on, badass, lay hands on me,” She was careful to keep herself between Clay and Stiles as she got in the older man’s face. “I will slit your goddamn throat.”

Jax stepped in then, if only to prevent things from escalating further. He thrust an arm over Clay’s chest to keep him where he was and held a hand out to his mother, silently urging her to take a few steps back.

“What in the hell is going on?” Jax posed the question to his younger brother, seeing as he was the only one who appeared calm and composed, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary.

“LuAnn called Gem, freaking out about Bobby.” Stiles revealed, eyes darting between Clay and Jax, as if he was struggling to decide whether he could trust Jax to keep Clay from going off again. “Clay followed us here, ‘cause he’s a dick. He started bitching about how Gemma needs to stay the fuck out of it because it is club business. Shit escalated.”

“Obviously.” He had witnessed some of that escalation. “I talked to LuAnn. It’s all good now.”

“So you two can get back to the garage.” Clay shoved Jax away from him and lumbered over to his bike. “That kid lays hands on me again, Jax, I’ll knock him on his ass.”

“Try it, dickbag.” Stiles flipped him the bird. ”The next time you come at Gemma like that, _I_ will slit your damn throat."

“Enough.” Jax let the command sink into his tone as he leveled his brother with a look that told him, in no uncertain terms, to shut the fuck up. “Let me deal with Clay. You guys should get back to the garage.”

“Fine.” Gemma ceded, going around to the driver side of the SUV.

“Stiles,” Jax wrapped a hand around his brother’s bicep. “You wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you? It ain’t like you to get physical with someone, even Clay.”

“Let’s just say I’ve reached my limit where he is concerned.” Stiles glared at Clay over Jax’s shoulder. “He’s acting like a child because he hasn't been the center of Gemma’s attention lately.”

“She seems to be the center of your attention as of late.” Not that Jax minded, it was a nice change from the open hostility between the pair. “I thought you’d been staying with Juice, but I talked to him earlier, and he said you hadn’t spent one night with him since you’ve been in town. You’ve been with Mom.”

“She’s been twitchy since her accident. Clay hasn’t exactly been sympathetic. I’ve been crashing there in case he starts shit.” Stiles brushed it off as if the behavior was not at all unusual. “No big deal.”

“Right.” Jax almost wanted to call him out on a lie, but he couldn’t be sure it was. Stiles looking after Gemma wasn’t unheard of, they were protective of one another in their own ways. “Well, if you can pull yourself away from playing guard dog, I need you to watch Abel tonight. Dean and I wanna go to the wrap party and I don’t want to leave him with the nanny when I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I’ll watch him.” Stiles agreed, posture relaxing. “Dean’s in town?”

“He’s on his way.” The hunter was edging closer to town as they spoke. “You’ll probably see him before I will. He’s stopping by TM first. You can help him with the Impala.”

“Sure.” He nodded and jerked his thumb to the SUV. “I gotta get back to work. You coming in anytime soon?”

“I got some shit to handle here, but I’ll be there eventually.” At least he hoped he would be. “Get going.”

Jax waited for his brother to load himself into the car and for the vehicle to pull away before he turned to Clay. His stepfather was sitting on his bike, an expression of barely concealed contempt on his face as he watched Gemma’s Cadillac drive off. The look raised Jax’s hackles almost as much as Clay’s earlier threats had.

“Don’t you ever,” He jutted an accusing finger in the man’s face. “Raise a hand to my little brother or mother again. You understand me?”

“Stiles is the one sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” Clay argued, sounding like a petulant child. “I’m tired of it.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Jax was not privy to the whole story, but he knew his brother would not physically confront someone without a damn good reason. “He’s a kid. You are an adult. Have some fucking self-control.”

* * *

 

It was a little after noon when Dean finally made it to the Teller-Morrow Garage. Seeing all the work stations full, he parked the Impala in front of the office, where Gemma normally left her car. He climbed out of the vehicle and ducked his head into the office, after finding it empty he moved on to the garage.

“Hey Lowell,” He grinned at the mechanic who was busy repairing a vintage red Mustang. “How’s it going?”

“It’s okay.” ‘Okay’ was pretty much Lowell’s default answer since his recent stint in rehab. “What about you?’

“I’m okay.” So it might have been Dean’s default as well, since his return from Hell. “Where is everyone?”

“Jax hasn’t been in yet. Chibs and Gemma are in the clubhouse with Piney.” Lowell used a screwdriver to point to the large building on the opposite side of the property. “Juice and Stiles are working on Gemma’s Cadillac.”

“Cool. Thanks, man.” He clapped the man on the back and wandered over to the other end of the garage.

He did not come across Juice or Stiles, but he did see the damage done to Gemma’s SUV. There were several dents to the body, as if someone had taken a hammer or blunt object to it. One of the windows was broken, plastic being held by duct tape covering it.

The car rocked suddenly, startling him. He tugged open the driver side door and glanced into the backseat, cursing himself when he caught sight of the vehicles occupants. Juice and Stiles were draped across the seat with pants shoved down their hips, rutting together like animals in heat.

“Hey boys!” He shouted to be heard over the machines in the garage, shocking the couple. Both jolted up and smacked their heads, Juice’s hitting the roof and Stiles’ slapping against the door. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes!” The pair yelled in unison.

“My apologies.” He drawled sarcastically. “Carry on.”

He slammed the door shut and traipsed around the vehicles the same way he came. He knocked a fist against the Mustang Lowell was working on until he had the mechanic’s attention.

“You’re an asshole.” He said jokingly, receiving a knowing smile in return. “You knew the two of them were working on something, but it sure as hell wasn’t that car.”

“It’s Stiles and Juice,” Lowell shrugged. “Leave them alone long enough, in a sort of private area, and eventually the clothes start coming off.”

“You could have warned me.”

“You should have known better. And now that they’ve been caught, they’ll get back to work.” The other man gestured to where the disheveled boys were stumbling out of the SUV. “So thanks.”

“Happy to help, I guess.” Dean snorted, watching the couple zip their flies and straighten their clothes, trying to appear as if they had not just been screwing in Gemma’s car. “What happened to the Cadillac anyway? Did Gemma get into another accident?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”

“Hmm.” Dean didn’t ponder on the vehicle for long, not when the familiar rumble of a motorcycle drew his gaze to the parking lot.

Jax rolled into the lot with a skinny blonde chick riding bitch on his bike. He backed the Dyna into a space beside the row of other motorcycles. Ever the gentleman, he offered a hand to steady the woman as she dismounted the bike.

“You okay with that rubbing up on Jax?” Gemma asked as she sidled up next to him.

“I’m not worried about Jax stepping out on me, if that’s what you mean.” He and Jax may not have the most conventional relationship, but they trusted each other to be faithful.

“She thinks he’s a free dick.” Gemma stared down the woman with disgust written all over her face.

“What she thinks doesn’t matter. Jax is fully capable of making his own decisions.” The chick could not just jump on Jax and have her way with him. Jax could say _no_ , could push her away. “Who is she? Croweater?”

“Caracara ‘talent.’” The matriarch didn’t try to hide how much she loathed the studio. “You gonna be in town awhile?”

“I’m not sure.” He could have a couple days, a week at the most, until he was called out on another case. “Are you okay? Car accident a few weeks ago and now your new rides all banged up…”

“I’m fine, baby.” She threaded her fingers through her hair anxiously. “Clay did the damage this time around. Nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?” Dean had gotten a bad vibe off Clay the first time he met him and his opinion of the guy had not changed much over the years.

“Even if it wasn’t, I’ve already got Stiles playing the role of knight in shining armor.” She glanced over her shoulder to peer at her youngest child, who seemed to have returned to working on the Cadillac instead of working on Juice. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so,” He made a mental note to keep an extra eye on her while he was in town. “Can I borrow some tools to tune up the Impala?”

“So long as you don’t get in the way of paying customers, you can use whatever you want.” She told him as she began walking to the office. “If you want to help out Lowell and the others with the workload, I‘ll give you a few bucks for the labor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He could always use the extra cash.

“Hey you,” Jax grinned as sauntered up to him, the blonde he was with previously, now noticeably absent. “Been here long?”

“Nope.” Dean had only been there five, ten minutes at the most, before Jax himself had arrived. “What happened to your little girlfriend?”

“Ah, you jealous?” Jax teased playfully. “She’s one of LuAnn’s girls. I was just giving her a ride. You want some help with your baby?”

“Sure. Although, I should warn you, we’re not going to have as much fun working on the Impala as your brother had with Juice working on your mom’s car.” His eyes found the pair again, who had taken to making heart eyes at each other over the hood of the SUV. “Gem might want to hose out her car before she uses it again.”

“Who the hell let them work together?” Jax sighed and shook his head. “Stiles!”

“What?” The kid couldn’t be bothered to tear his gaze away from his lover to address his older brother. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t you go to my place and relieve Neeta?” Jax suggested, earning an annoyed pout from the kid. “Abel really missed his uncle this morning.”

“Yeah. All right.” Stiles muttered, seemingly oblivious to the blatant emotional manipulation.

“Pick up some groceries to, the fridge is empty.” Jax removed his wallet and pulled a few twenties out as Stiles stolled over from the garage.

“I’m your brother, not your old lady.” He grumbled, snatching the money from Jax’s hand and pocketing it. “But fine, I’ll pick up some food.”

“After Abel goes to bed, you can do the homework that’s been collecting dust on your desk.” Jax said pointedly.

“Yes, _Dad_.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go pick up Abel before I go to the grocery store. I’ll see you guys later.”

“So,” Jax tilted his head curiously at Dean. “You in town long?”

“Your mom asked me the same thing.” His answer had not changed since she posed the question to him. “I don’t know. Sam and I just finished a weird case. It brought some shit up. I wanted to come here, spend time with you and the kid, and take my mind off it all before moving on to the next one.”

“You wanna tell me about it?”

“Ghost sickness, man.” And that was all he would say on the subject. “So you gonna help me with the Impala or not?”

“Yeah. Come on.” Jax swung an arm over his shoulders. “Let’s go show your baby some love, then later you can show me some love.”

“Deal.”

* * *

 

Most parents or babysitters tried to avoid taking their kids to the store at all costs. They didn’t want to deal with disapproving looks from other customers when the child inevitably cried or threw a temper tantrum. Stiles did not worry about things like that. Abel was a surprisingly calm infant, he would spend the whole trip just taking in the sights and sounds of his surroundings.

“Your son is so well-behaved.” Ms. Beatrice, a feisty elderly woman who stopped him _every single time_ he came into the store, gushed over Abel. “He’s so precious.”

“Nephew, Ms. B.” He corrected, as he did every time she made the comment. “He won’t be so precious if we are in the store any longer than we have to be. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get the shopping done before he gets cranky. Have a nice night, ma’am.”

He made a break for it before the woman could get a word in edgewise. He pushed the cart down the cereal aisle, slipping raisin bran into the basket, mainly because he knew Jax hated it. He made a point to grab healthy alternatives to everything on his brother’s list, just to be an asshole. He could practically hear the ‘what the fuck is this shit’ that would be coming out of his brother’s mouth the moment he opened the fridge or cupboards in the morning.

“Diapers and formula,” He read off the last two items on the list to his nephew. “And a new pack of bottles, because your father melted three of the ones you had at home.”

Stiles shook the thoughts of how his brother possibly could have managed that as he turned down the _Baby Care_ aisle. He grabbed two packs of bottles to be safe and a large pack of diapers. He was making a move for the formula when another cart rammed into his, causing Abel to cry out in alarm.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The person responsible apologized quickly. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“It’s okay.” He hushed his nephew before flicking his gaze to the older man, noting his milky eyes. “No harm done, just surprised us is all.”

“Oh, what a special child,” The stranger leaned over the basket to get a clearer view of the baby. “Eyes like glowing embers to complement the spark of fire kindled in his soul.”

“Um, his eyes are blue, not, uh, anything like…glowing embers.” Stiles cautiously rolled the cart back several feet, keeping his nephew out of the man’s reach. “They’re an icy blue color, like water in the arctic.”

“So they are.” The man straightened up, locking his film covered orbs with Stiles. “Yours, though, are a very magnificent shade of amber.”

“I’ve heard that before.” He had taken it as a compliment before, his eyes were one of his best features, but this time it made him feel uncomfortable and oddly exposed. “Um, if you could - I need to get to the formula.”

“Of course.” The stranger stepped out of the way obediently. “A very special child indeed.”

“Uh, thanks.” Stiles dumped two cans of formula into the basket and darted down the aisle like his ass one on fire, needing to put as much distance between Abel and the strange man as possible.

* * *

 

The party was in full swing when Dean showed up at Caracara. Jax was already there, having left earlier in the evening with the rest of the club while Dean was finishing a few small repairs on the Impala. When he walked through the door, he thought he would find Jax surrounded by porn stars. He did not expect to be accosted, by the same blonde Jax had ridden up to TM with, as soon as he crossed over the threshold.

“This is a private party.” She jabbed her manicured nails, which seemed more like claws, against his chest.

“I was invited.” He was fairly certain this chick was getting in his space for reasons other than his trespassing on Caracara property, but he wouldn’t mention it. “By Jax.”

“He’s going to be occupied, honey.” From the sultry lit in her voice, she was the one who wanted to keep Jax occupied. “Any other time, I would let you in, but-“

“But you know Jax is _mine_ ,” Ordinarily, he would not be so open about his possessiveness when it came to Jax, but something told him this chick wasn’t going to back off with a few polite words. “And you know that if I am in there, you won’t be riding his dick tonight. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you don’t always get what you want.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and physically moved her out of the way so he could enter the studio unhindered. He sent her a cocky smirk as he swaggered past her, making a beeline for the bar to get himself a drink before he went off in search of Jax.

“Hey man.” Juice grinned widely as he took a swig of his beer.

“Juice,” Dean did not miss the way the younger man had separated himself from his crew, sitting at the bar rather than joining the party. “I thought you’d be at Jax’s house with Stiles, _helping_ him babysit.”

“I didn’t know how long you and Jax would be here,” Juice glanced across the room toward his VP. “He gets pissy when he walks in on Stiles and I getting _close_ at his house.”

“Yeah, well, we’re probably gonna be here most of the night and might end up crashing at the clubhouse.“ He could do Juice and Stiles a favor by guaranteeing them some alone time. They could owe him one later. “If you want to spend some quality time with your boo, I-“

“Did you just say _boo_?”

“I heard some kids say it.” He was smart enough to know it was slang for significant other. “If you want to spend some quality time with _Stiles_ , just make sure you’re out of bed by the time Jax and I get back in the morning. No need to traumatize him anymore more than we have to. Deal?”

“Deal.” The younger man hopped off the stool excitedly. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” He wasn’t doing it for free, he intended to cash in on that favor very soon. “Remember to use protection.”

“Duh.”

Juice jogged to the door while Dean set his sights on Jax. He weaved through the crowd of warm bodies until he came to a stop in front of the man he had been looking for. Jax and Opie were seated together in the corner of the room, having pushed their chairs out of the way to give them a semblance of privacy.

“Juice cutting out early?” Opie asked, nodding toward the exit.

“He decided fucking your brother was a better option than drinking and dancing with porn stars.” Dean took far too much pleasure in how the two Sons faces scrunched up in identical expressions of distaste.

“You’re a dick.” Jax claimed fondly.

“That’s one of the things you love about me.” He settled a hand on Jax’s knee.

“That’s my cue…” Opie muttered, rising from his chair and disappearing into the sea of people.

“He acts like we’re about to start banging right here.” Dean murmured, drumming his fingers over Jax’s thigh as he slid his hand lower.

“You mean, we’re not?” Jax spread his legs invitingly.

“I’m all for a little exhibitionism.” Dean was no stranger to the thrill that came with the possibility being caught in the act. “But this is a little…”

“Too much.” Jax finished for him. “You want to get out of here?”

“We can go to the clubhouse.” They could slip into the apartment before anyone else had the chance. “That is if you can pull yourself away from all this glamour.”

“I showed my face, my producer duties are done for the evening.” Jax pushed himself out of his seat. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

The house looked dark from the outside when Juice arrived. Assuming Stiles had turned in for the night, he used the spare key beneath the welcome mat to get in, so not to wake anyone. Classic rock playing at a low volume greeted him as he stepped into the dimly lit house, the only light coming from a lamp near the dining room.

He toed off his boots, hung his kutte on the hook by the door, and made his way into the living room. Stiles was splayed out on the couch, snoring lightly, a stuffed giraffe in the crook of his arm. He nudged Stiles over just far enough to make room for himself on the edge of the sofa.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to Stiles throat, receiving the barest hint of a twitch in response. He peppered a line of kisses up the younger man’s neck, suckling a patching of skin into his mouth, enjoying the soft gasps it elicited. He nibbled the flesh gently before sinking his teeth into his throat. Stiles groaned deeply, his legs falling open, and his hand coming up to grip the back of Juice’s head, not pushing him away, but pulling him in closer.

Juice took the reaction for consent and maneuvered himself between Stiles thighs. He worked a hand under Stiles shirt, skimming his blunt nails over his ribcage, feeling him quiver at the contact.

“Mmm…” Stiles moaned sleepily, rolling his hips up to meet Juice’s. “Didn’t know you were coming over.”

“Hmm.” Juice worked the skin of Stiles throat between his teeth until he was sure it would leave a mark that would last for days. “You disappointed?”

“Does it feel like I’m disappointed?” Stiles took one of Juice’s hands in his, bringing it down to his hardening cock. “You wanna finish what we started earlier?”

“That’s the plan.” He sat back on his haunches, gazing down at his lover. “Bedroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” He climbed off the sofa and held a hand out for Stiles. “Leave the IPod, huh? The instrumental tracks of _Metallica_ don’t really turn me on.”

“They don’t do much for me either. I had them playing for Abel, it helps him sleep.” Stiles told him as he used Juice’s hand to lever himself up. “Thanks for putting him to bed, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“What are you talking about?” He furrowed his brows in confusion.

“I dozed off with Abel curled up on my chest, I woke up with you on top of me.” Stiles motioned to the spot on his torso, presumably where the baby had been sleeping peacefully. “Obviously, you put him to bed to make room for yourself.”

“I didn’t put him to bed, Stiles. You must have.” It was the only option, seeing as the infant was not present when Juice came through the door. “The only thing you had on you was that giraffe.”

“I gave that to Abel to sleep with.” Stiles picked the giraffe up from the couch, holding it close to his chest. “Stop screwing with me, okay? You put him in his crib when you came in.”

“You must have done it before you fell asleep.”

“No, I didn’t!”

Stiles dashed around him and made a run for the nursery. Juice followed quickly behind, flicking on the lights Stiles missed as he went. They both came to a stuttering halt next to the empty crib.

“W-Where is he?” Stiles breathing became ragged as the panic set in. “Where’s Abel?”

“Stiles,” He reached out to him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “We’ll figure it out.”

“He was just in my arms and now he’s gone.” Stiles voice shook as Juice rubbed soothing circles on his back. “Where is he?”

“We’ll find him. I promise. We’ll find him.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Warnings: Violence, a little gore.  
> There is some nogitsune foreshadowing in this chapter, does that count as a warning or a spoiler?

Waking up tangled with Dean was by far Jax’s favorite way to wake up, or at least it was until Jax realized the hunter was trying to crawl out of bed. Well, Jax could not have that. He slung a leg over Dean’s hip and slapped an arm around his chest to keep him in place.

“Fucking octopus.” Dean mumbled sending an elbow into Jax’s sternum. “Our phones are ringing, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Let ‘em ring.” Jax could not care less about whoever was trying to call him so late in the night. “Wanna fuck you.”

“You already have.” The hunter reminded as he rolled onto his back, skating his fingers over Jax’s bare thigh. “It’s my turn.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.” He grinned, straddling his lover’s waist. “How do you want me?”

“This is good.” Dean hummed before his face scrunched up in aggravation. “Or it would be if our phones would shut the hell up.”

“Uh.” Jax dropped himself back onto the bed beside Dean, frustrated by the other man’s lack of focus. “Just answer the thing or turn it off. Fuck.”

“My phone is not the only one ringing, you ass.” Dean leaned over the bed to snatch their phones off the nightstand. “I’ve got Juice. Yours says Stiles.”

“Give m- _Oomph_.“ Jax grunted when the device made contact with his stomach. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean muttered as they sat up in bed, prepared to answer their blaring phones.

“Hello?” Jax spoke into the receiver. “Stiles?”

 _“Jax, you need to come home.”_ Juice’s voice filtered over the line.

“Why are you on Stiles phone?” Jax flicked his gaze to Dean, whose phone had stopped flashing Juice’s name on the caller ID screen.

 _“You weren’t answering when I called from mine.”_ Juice claimed impatiently. _“You need to come home.”_

“Put my brother on the phone.” He ordered the other Son.

 _“I can’t. He’s…”_ Juice trailed off when the distinct sound of someone struggling to take a breath came over the phone. _“Stiles, hey, you need to breathe. Please, come on.”_

“What is going on with my brother?” Jax questioned, a spike of fear rocketing up his spine. “Why can’t he breathe?”

 _“I- I think it’s a panic attack.”_ Juice stammered, seeming close to one himself. _“Jax, you a-and Dean need to get here now. It’s an emergency.”_

“We’re on our way.” He threw the blankets off his body. “You need to calm Stiles breathing. Time his breaths with yours, or if you can, do the one, two, thr-“

 _“I know how to bring someone out of a panic attack!”_ Juice snapped a little hysterically. “ _He’s just not cooperating. Just get here, please.”_

“I’m coming.” He slapped his phone shut and looked to Dean. “Get dressed.”

* * *

 

Dean did not allow Jax to ride home on his Dyna. He insisted on driving the moment he overheard the words ‘Stiles’ and ‘can’t breathe’ strung together. He didn’t want fear to distract Jax and cause him to lose control of his bike. The SAMCRO VP had been too worried about his brother to put up a fight, just sat obediently in the passenger seat the whole way home, but jumped out of the car before Dean could even put it in park in the driveway.

The living room was empty when they entered the house. A light in the hall and the low murmur of voices drew them to the nursery. Juice was pacing the room, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Stiles sat on the couch, practically hyperventilating, a stuffed giraffe held closely to his chest.

It was the giraffe that did it. The sight of it cradled so delicately, as if it were something precious, was eerily similar to a scene Dean had found himself in over fourteen years ago. It was more than enough to tell him what happened without Juice or Stiles saying a word.

“Abel’s gone.” He blurted out without thinking.

“I-I don’t know w-what happened.” Stiles stuttered, tears swimming in his eyes. “I-I’m so sorry, J-Jax.”

“What?” Jax stumbled to the crib, tossing the blankets back and forth as if they baby could be hiding beneath them. “Where is he? What happened? Stiles, you were supposed to be watching him! What the hell happened to my son?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles sobbed, his body beginning to tremor uncontrollably. “I fell asleep on the couch, A-Abel was on my chest. My hand was on his back so he didn’t roll off. I w-woke up and h-he was just gone.”

“When I came in, Stiles was still asleep and I thought Abel was in his crib.” Juice added. “It wasn’t until Stiles woke up that we realized Abel was gone.”

“Someone must have taken him, Jax.” Stiles sniffled, breath hitching and tears pouring down his cheeks. “They just took him right out of my arms.”

“Stiles,” Juice reached out to him, only to have him jerk away from his touch.

“They just took him right out of my arms!” Stiles repeated, squeezing his eyes shut and yanking on clumps of his hair with both hands. “How could they do that? How could they just take him without me feeling it or-“

“Or hearing them come into the house.” Jax finished for him, sinking down on the couch cushion next to him. “Why didn’t you cry? Why didn’t I hear you if you did cry?”

“What?” Stiles tilted his head, offering his brother an imploring look. “ _I_ lost Abel, not you.”

“I babysat you once when you were a toddler. I had you for the entire week. I woke up one night and you were gone. You were just gone.” Jax clasped his hands together in front of him. “All that was left was that damn giraffe.”

“W-Who had me? How did you get me back?”

“Dean got you back. He saved you from a coven of witches.” Jax explained, lifting his gaze to meet Dean’s. “They were taking brown eyes toddlers for their sparks.”

“Brown eyed…” Stiles huffed indignantly. “Why do my eyes bring out the weirdos?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked curiously.

“Well, yesterday, at the store, a guy told me I had a ‘magnificent’ shade of amber eyes.” Stiles shuddered at the memory. “It was odd ‘cause I thought he was blind, or mostly blind. He had this milky stuff over his eyes. And he had made a comment about Abel’s eyes first, saying they were like glowing embers. I thought I was weird since Abel’s eyes are blue.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.” Dean held up a hand. “Did he say something about a spark of fire in Abel's soul?”

“Y-Yeah.” Stiles wiped tear tracks from his face. “Why? W-What does that mean?”

“How is that possible?” Jax ignored his brother’s inquiries to question the hunter. “You, Bobby, and that other hunter, um, Caleb, you killed them. You killed them and you rescued Stiles, you brought him home to me.”

“I didn’t stick around to see if Bobby and Caleb got them all. There were a lot of members in that coven and the lead bitch, Starr, I think her name was, said not all of them were present for the ritual.” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, shoulders hunching under the weight of guilt. “Bobby would have kept an eye on things over the years. He probably alerted the hunter network to the victim profile in case the coven started killing again somewhere else.”

“Except Abel doesn’t fit the victim profile!” Jax argued, nostrils flaring in anger. “His eyes aren’t the right color. He’s not the right age, he’s too young. I don’t think he’s a spark.”

“You’re right, he’s not.” Abel fell outside the parameters of the original victim profile. “But Stiles is, with the exception of the age thing.”

“So why not just take me instead of Abel?” Stiles bit his lip anxiously, trying and failing to understand what was going on and why his nephew was taken.

“A baby is easier to take than someone fully grown.” Juice theorized. “With Abel they have leverage. You’ll go to them to get him back. You would give them whatever they wanted to keep them from hurting Abel.”

“You are damn right about that.” Stiles expression morphed from worry to determination. “I am not going to let them touch Abel. How do we find them? They took him to get to me, so they’ll be in contact, right?”

“Not necessarily.” They could not bank the baby’s life on that. “We located them pretty quickly last time. They could assume we’ll find them without their help. They could have taken Abel to the same place they took you.”

“No, they can’t. After Stiles went home to Beacon Hills, Opie and I went up to that ranger station and finished what the fire started.” Jax refuted Dean’s idea. “There’s nothing up there but a clearing. No place for them to hide or hold any kids.”

“So we’re gonna have to find them the hard way.” Dean sighed, realizing what a difficult task that was going to be with what little they had to go on. “I’m gonna call Sam and Bobby for back-up.”

“It’s going to take them a day to get here.” Jax complained, as if Dean did not already know that. “I’m not waiting that long to go get my son.”

“I’m not saying we wait.” They didn’t even really need Bobby and Sam, he would just feel more comfortable with them there. “We’ll do what we can to find Abel, and if we have a location before Sam and Bobby get here, then we will go get him without them. If they show up before we get a location, then we will have two extra bodies to help us.”

“Fine.” Jax ceded. “We do have an entire club to help, in case you forgot.”

“I know they can be an asset when we go to retrieve Abel,” The extra people would be necessary if they coven had grown in size over the years. “But they can also have big mouths when it comes to family problems.”

“What’s your point?”

“They will let something slip to Gemma.” Dean would never in his life call Gemma delicate, but he wasn’t sure she could handle the added stress at the moment. “I saw her for a few minutes yesterday. I could tell she’s going through something. Do you really want to put one more thing on her plate by telling her that her grandson is missing? She was around when Stiles was taken. She knows what the coven did to the other babies. If she thinks that could be happening to Abel…”

“What did the coven do to the other babies?” Stiles asked, face paling as if he knew it could only be something truly awful.

“It doesn’t matter.” Jax told his brother, shooting Dean a look that warned him to keep his mouth shut. “Abel’s not a spark, so they won’t do to him what they tried to do to you, Stiles.”

“How do you know that Abel isn’t a spark?” Juice questioned. “What the hell is a spark? How do you know Stiles is a spark?”

“A spark is an extra part of a soul that not everyone has. It’s a light of goodness that is intertwined with the soul or something.” And that was about as far into that as Dean would get, mostly because he was no closer to understanding what a spark was than his dad and Bobby were fourteen years ago. “We know Stiles is one, because the coven who took him was killing toddlers that were sparks. I don’t know about Abel. Stiles, you are the one who runs around with werewolves. Wolves can sense sparks. Have any of them said anything about sensing something special in Abel?”

“The only wolves who have met Abel are Scott and Derek, and neither of them are skilled when it comes to their supernatural senses.” Stiles snorted derisively. “Fail-wolves, is what I like to call them. They can barely sense each other when they’re sharing the same space, and they are the same species. I highly doubt either of them could sense anything in Abel or me.”

“Let’s work under the assumption that the coven took Abel to get to Stiles.” Dean suggested, knowing the guilt Stiles felt would be easier to process than the idea of what could be happening to Abel if he were a spark. “That might buy us some more time, but hopefully we won’t need it.”

“If Abel is a spark, how much time do we have to find him?” Stiles asked hesitantly, eyes darting between Dean and his brother. “What are they going to do with him if we don’t find him?”

“We’ve got three days and we will find him.” Jax assured the younger man, steadfastly refusing to reveal details of what the coven was capable of. “Finding him is what we need to focus on. Where do you think they would take him, Dean?”

“Back when they had Stiles they needed somewhere off the grid, because they had taken multiple kids.” Staying in town would have raised suspicions. “If Abel is the first or the only one they’ve grabbed, they won’t need to take that precaution. Have any of you heard of babies going missing in the last few weeks? Not just in Charming, but in the surrounding towns?”

“I haven’t heard anything, but I can call my dad.” Stiles proposed, fumbling with his cellphone. “If something like that was happening around here, he and every other sheriff in Northern California would have been notified.”

“Do it, but play it cool. We don’t want him to think something’s up. The last thing we need is for him to get suspicious and alert every police department in a two hundred mile radius.” Dean did not want to deal with the cops on top of everything else. “Don’t tell him Abel is missing. It would only make him worry about you and he would drive down to try to help. You don’t want him involved with witches, do you?”

“This isn’t my first time, Dean.” Stiles muttered, scrolling through the contacts on his phone.

“Before you make that call,” Juice placed his hand on top of Stiles to prevent him from dialing the number. “You need to get your voice to stop shaking. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Right.” Stiles cleared his throat pointedly. “You should get the satellite maps loaded up on your laptop. You and Dean can look ‘em over, try to find a possible location.”

“You have access to satellite maps?” Somehow, Dean was sure they weren’t talking about Google Maps.

“You have an FBI badge?” Juice countered with a raised brow.

“Fair enough.”

* * *

 

Stiles couldn’t help but chew on his nails and tug at his hair as he waited for Juice and Dean to come up with any kind of lead. He wanted to help, he really did, but beyond calling his father, he was at a loss at what to do. And, honestly, Jax’s hovering wasn’t helping, if anything it was making things worse.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you so calm?” He was sure Jax’s composed behavior was an act in place to punish him. “ _How_ are you so calm?”

It was almost as if their roles had been reversed. Stiles was usually the one who remained cool and levelheaded in a crisis. Jax was the one who tended to let his emotions determine his reactions, his anger often leading him on a path of destruction. However, now, Stiles was the one overcome with emotion, while Jax was unnervingly quiet and collected.

“I don’t know, Stiles. Maybe I’m numb.” Jax speculated with a heavy sigh. “Or maybe I trust Dean to bring Abel home, safe and sound, the same way he brought you home. Of course, this time, if he tries to knock me out, I might actually kill him.”

“I just don’t understand how this happened,” Stiles dropped his head into his hands. “He was curled up on my chest. I should have felt someone take him. He had been fussy before I got him down, he would have cried if someone woke him up, but he didn’t.”

“You were in your crib when you were taken. Your dad calling is the only reason I woke up and checked on you. I went into the nursery, and the only thing in your crib was this,” Jax picked the stuffed giraffe up from Stiles lap. “I don’t think I let go it the entire time you were gone.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you again.”

“It’s not your fault, buddy.” Jax knocked their shoulders together. “The coven or whatever, it uses some kind of mojo to get in and out of the house undetected. It’s not something you could have stopped.”

“If they wanted me, they should have woken me up. All they had to do was threaten to hurt Abel and I would have done whatever they wanted.” He would have allowed them to slit his throat then and there if it meant Abel would be safe. “They didn’t have to take him.”

“Stiles-“

“Hey,” Dean rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “We’ve got a couple possible locations.”

“It’s about time.” They had been scouring the maps for hours, looking for any house or building the coven could be held up in. “Where?”

“For maximum isolation, I would say one of three empty warehouses on that land Oswald’s been making bids on.” Juice handed over aerial photographs of the property that he had printed out. “There’s also Jacob Hale’s housing development on the east side of town. Construction’s been shut down for the last month while the union investigates complaints filed by some workers. Last but not least, Charming United Church, it’s been closed for remodel since they found asbestos in the walls. Until the city inspector gives them the green-light to reopen their doors, the only person on the property is the groundskeeper, who is eighty and hard of hearing, according to my research.”

“Charming United…” Jax tested the words on his tongue. “That was Grandpa Nate’s old parish.”

“Coincidence?” Could the coven possibly have access to that information? “It’s a big church and it wouldn’t be hard to overpower an elderly man who probably wouldn’t hear them coming. Should we look there?”

“We need to check them all,” Dean proclaimed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We can’t be sure which one they are hiding out in or if any of these are the right one. They could be somewhere else entirely.”

“This is all we’ve got. We’ll split up.” Jax’s eyes scanned the pictures he had been given. “Opie and I used to take dirt bikes up the trails on the property those warehouses are on. I know my way around, so I’ll take those. Juice, I want you with Stiles. You two can take the church. Dea-“

“Juice and I will take Jacob Hale’s housing development.” Stiles took the photograph of the construction site out of Jax’s hands. “It’s huge. Dean can’t search it by himself. You want Juice and I to stick together, so he and I can take the development, we’ll get it done quicker. Dean can take the church. It’ll be a quick sweep if it’s clear. He can join you when he’s done. None of us should be alone.”

“We might not have to be.” Dean cut in. “When I talked to Sam, he told me he and Bobby had left for a hunt in Oregon yesterday afternoon. They detoured our way once I told him what was going on. At most, they are an hour out.”

“I’m not waiting an hour to search for my son.” Jax growled at the hunter. “We leave now and they can join us when they get to town.”

“Okay.” Dean agreed, as if he even had a choice in the matter.

“Everyone takes their hunter starter kits that Sam made for us.” Stiles stated, the plan of attack helping him focus for the first time since he found Abel missing.

“Cell phones stay on at all times. Check in with a text message every ten minutes and a phone call every thirty minutes.” Jax instructed, making sure his own phone had a full charge. “You don’t check in, we assume you’ve been apprehended by the coven, and we come running.”

“Nobody goes in to rescue Abel on their own.” Dean’s green eyes pierced into Jax’s as he spoke. “If you find him, or the coven, you call the rest of us and we’ll converge on your location and go from there.”

“We’re taking the Jeep.” Stiles stood from the sofa and wrapped his fingers around Juice’s wrist. “The car seat is already in there. I’ll take Abel’s diaper bag too. He’ll need a change when we find him. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable on the ride home.”

“Take this too.” Jax handed over the giraffe. “Everyone has their jobs. Let’s go do them.”

“Yep.”

“Juice,” Jax stopped the younger Son before he could leave the room. “You watch Stiles. Do not let him make any risky decisions if you come across the coven. He’s not thinking straight, he-“

“ _He_ is right here and thinking just fine.” Stiles did not appreciate the patronizing tone, even under the circumstances.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Juice promised.

* * *

 

Juice was beginning to think Jax had given Hale a heads up about possible reckless driving on the streets of Charming. Stiles had flown past two patrol cars already, going about thirty miles over the speed limit, and they hadn’t even flashed their lights in warning. Normally, even Hale or Eglee would at least stop Stiles and urge him to slow it down if he was caught blowing through red lights and stop signs.

“Slow down a little.” Juice advised, smacking a hand to the roof of the Jeep to keep from flopping around the car when Stiles made a sharp turn and the vehicle lurched precariously on its side. “I don’t think the engine will hold up much longer if you keep pushing it this hard.”

“The Jeep is fine.” Stiles claimed, zooming through two stoplights and passing the turn off to the residential area. “The faster we get there, the faster we find Abel.”

“We’re not going to find him at all if you don’t turn around. You missed the street we’re supposed to take.” The direction they were currently headed would lead them toward the farmland, not Hale’s construction site. “This is the third time we’ve had to backtrack.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Stiles slammed his foot on the break and made a swift u-turn. “My eyes are a little blurry because I’m tired.”

“Maybe you should let me drive.” Juice jolted as the vehicle hopped the curb, taking the turn toward the housing development a little too soon. “Pull the car over, Stiles. We are no good to anyone if we don’t make it to our destination. Be smart about this. Pull over and let me drive.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Juice relaxed when all signs pointed to Stiles doing as asked. He slowed the vehicle, flicked on the blinker, and prepared to steer the car off to the side of the road. Juice was ready to unclip his belt, so they could switch seats once the car was stopped, when Stiles abruptly jerked back, one hand coming up to cover his face. The Jeep accelerated suddenly, veering off the road, and ramming forcefully into a telephone pole.

Juice peeled his head off where it landed on the passenger side window, feeling blood trickle down the side of his face. He noted the smoke coming off the engine and the sizable dent made by the pole lodged into the front of the vehicle. The mechanic in him was already calculating the cost and time it would take to fix the damage.

“Fuck.” He groaned, lolling his head toward the driver’s side of the car. “Stiles?”

The younger man was unmoving and slumped over the steering wheel. Juice unbuckled his safety belt and slid across the seat. He brought two fingers up to check for a pulse, thankful when he found one. He caressed his knuckles gently over Stiles cheek, silently urging him to regain consciousness.

“Stiles, wake up.” He pleaded softly. “Stiles, come on, you gotta wake up.”

“Hmm…” Stiles mumbled, lips smacking together like he was thirsty. “Juice?”

It took a moment but slowly Stiles seemed to come around. He reached a hand up to cover the one Juice had one his cheek, gripping it lightly. His lids fluttered several times before he finally forced his eyes open, Juice reared back in shock at the sight of them.

“Something’s wrong,” Stiles murmured, blinking wildly. “C-Can’t open my eyes.”

“They are open.” Juice leaned in to take a closer look. “There’s some kind of grayish film covering your irises and pupils and…all of it.”

“W-What?” Stiles pressed his fingers at the skin around his eyes. “I um, there was a fuzziness before, while I was driving, and then there was a really bad pain, and I think I blacked out…”

“Wait. Hold on.” Juice pulled Stiles hands away from his face. “You said the guy who stopped you at the store had milky eyes, and that he was focused on yours and Abel’s eyes.”

“You think he stole my sight? How?”

“I don’t know.” The guy was part of a coven, he had to have some kind of power. “We gotta get you back to the house or to a doctor, and get the Jeep towed to TM.”

“No!” Stiles pushed off the steering wheel, hissing in pain at the movement, and inadvertently honking the horn. “W-We have to keep going. We have to find Abel.”

“Stiles, the Jeep it out of commission and we are both hurt.” They wouldn’t make it far on foot while they were still shaken from the crash. “You can’t see. We have to get back to the house, get patched up, and then I will ride out to the housing development.”

“I can help.”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t.” It would be one thing if Stiles had the time to learn how to get around without his sight, but as it was, they were already working on a limited timeframe. “We’ll call the garage to pick up the Jeep and have them drop us at Jax’s.”

“I gotta find Abel, Juice.” The younger man whined pitifully. “I lost him when I was supposed to protect him. I can’t just sit at home and wait. _I_ have to find him. You have to let me help.”

“We’ll figure something out.” He lied, hoping Stiles would come to terms with having to stay behind by the time they returned to the Teller house.

* * *

 

Dean couldn’t really picture Gemma as the church going type. He kind of thought Jax had been screwing with him when he said Gemma was a reverends daughter. Of course, there was no denying it once he came across the photographs of Charming United’s current and former clergy hanging on the wall of the church rectory during his search.

“Reverend Nathaniel Madock and Family, Christmas Eve, 1973.” Dean read off a plaque beneath a picture. “Nice Farrah hair, Gem.”

He found nothing out of the ordinary in the chapel or the rectory. There were the usual items, bibles, crucifixes, some holy water, things like that. Dean checked every room, from the makeshift daycare to the classrooms they held Sunday school and bible study in. He came up empty in every single one.

He was ready to give the place an ‘all clear’ when his phone blared loudly from his jacket pocket, scaring the shit out of him and capturing the attention of the groundskeeper down the hall. Dean ducked into the nearest classroom, making a beeline for the window, barely making it out before the old man could spot him.

“Jesus.” He let out a harsh breath as he flipped his phone open and began jogging toward his car. “This better be good. I was nearly caught by an elderly guy, who I was told was hard of hearing.”

 _“Stiles and I are on our way back to the house. We didn’t get a chance to check the development. We were in an accident.”_ Juice rambled, not even stopping to breathe as he struggled to get the words out. _“Stiles is, uh, he’s gone blind.”_

“What the hell are you talking about?”

_“I don’t know, okay? He was fine and then he couldn’t see!”_

“Fuck.” Dean kicked the Impala’s tires. “I’m gonna call Sam, have him and Bobby meet you at the house. Maybe one of them can figure out what the hell is going on. I will go to the development.”

_“Okay.”_

“Try to keep him calm.” God knows the kid was probably freaking out over being sidelined. “Leave Abel to Jax and I.”

 _“I can come help with the coven once I get Stile settled.”_ Juice volunteered.

“No. Stay with him.” It would be their luck that as soon as Juice left Stiles side, the kid would wander off to retrieve Abel himself. “Jax and I can get Abel. Oh, and do not tell Jax about what happened to Stiles when you call to check in. It will only distract him.”

_“Fine.”_

* * *

 

Jax had come up empty during his search through the first warehouse. The second was about ten miles west of the first, a quick ride on his bike. He killed the engine a mile out, walked the rest of the way to give himself the element of surprise.

It looked as empty as the other warehouse from the outside, but as he drew closer, he could hear movement inside. He knew from the layout of the building, which Juice found online, that there was one large storage area in the front and two offices near the back. Jax decided to go around the side of the building, hoping to find an access point or secondary door leading to one of the offices.

He rounded the corner, noting a window a few feet down the way. In front of the window, a solitary man stood guard, although he had no visible weapon that Jax could see. Jax reached for his gun on instinct, before realizing it would be too loud and grabbing the knife clipped to his belt instead.

He kept his footsteps light, did his best not to snap a branch or crunch a leaf as he made his way to the man. He attacked him from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck, yanking his head back, and leveling his knife with the man’s line of sight. He hoped the position made his intentions very clear.

“Where is my son?” He snarled in the man’s ear. “You answer determines whether you live or die.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man grunted, not making the slightest attempt to free himself from Jax’s hold.

“Your pendant tells me otherwise.” Jax used the tip of the knife to lift the charm dangling from a chain around the man’s throat. “It’s a mix of three sigils blended into one: fire, soul, and life. I recognize it from a symbol painted on my brother years ago. So, I’ll ask again, where is my son?”

“He’s already ours.”

“Wrong answer.” Jax declared, sliding the knife viciously across the man’s throat and lowering his body to the forest floor while blood poured out of him.

He swiped the blade over his pant leg before sheathing it, replacing it with his phone. He blindly pressed the redial button as he stood on the tips of his toes to peek through the warehouse window, finding the room led to clear, save for a few candles and crystals lying around. The items, and the now dead guard, were confirmation enough that he was in the right place.

 _“Jax, the church wasn’t the right place. I’m at the housing development now.”_ Dean announced in lieu of a proper greeting once the call had connected. _“So far it’s a fat lot of nothing. This place is quiet. I don’t think the coven is here.”_

“I’ve got them. Second warehouse on the list.” Jax said lowly, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone else who thought it was smart to play security guard without the weaponry to back it up. “I took out one at the perimeter. I’m not sure how many are inside.”

_“Wait for me. I’m on my way.”_

“I know. I’m just gonna try to get a better look.” He used his shoulder to hold the phone at his ear as he jimmied the window open. “I want to know how many we are up against.”

_“Damn it, Jackson! Just wait for me.”_

“I will, I ju-“ Jax was cut off when a familiar wail cried out from the other side of the warehouse. “Abel.”

With his son at the forefront of his mind, he dropped his phone to the dirt and shimmied through the window as fast as he could. He didn’t try to be quiet as he lumbered across the room, knocking things over as he went. He barely had his gun out before he wrenched the door open.

“We were wondering when you would join us.” A soft female voice floated through dark room. “However, we were expecting someone younger and with darker eyes.”

“I want my son.” He was mindful of his steps as he moved further into the room, squinting his eyes in an effort to see anything or anyone. “I am not leaving here without him.”

“Then I suppose you will be with us for a while.” The woman spoke from behind him.

He whipped around to face the witch, who did not seem the least bit threatened when he aimed his gun at her chest. She smiled arrogantly and brought her hand up to his cheek. He couldn’t find it in him to move away from her touch, almost as if some kind of force kept him in place.

“Pull the trigger.” She ordered, her tone calm and serene.

He acted as If she had physically compelled him, pulling the trigger on the pistol aimed at her heart. There was no loud ‘boom’ of a bullet exiting the chamber, only a click, signaling a misfire. He pressed his finger to the trigger again and again, receiving the same result.

“Did you get that out of your system, dear?” She took the weapon form his pliant hands, as well as the knife from his belt. “That’s better, isn’t it? Now, I have someone who would be happy to speak with you. I believe the young man who interrupted our ceremony, during our last trip to Charming, called him _Moonbeam_.”

* * *

 

The only thing that kept Stiles stationary on the couch was Juice, who forced him back down every time he tried to stand. It was irritating, but he knew Juice was only doing it because the movement only exasperated his injuries, and it was becoming all the more difficult to hide the sounds of pain. His ass remained glued to the sofa cushions, whether he wanted it there or not, until Bobby and Sam arrived.

Dean had apparently told the pair about Stiles condition, because the moment they were through the door Bobby was in front of him. Stiles couldn’t see him, but he could smell the stench of engine oil and gunpowder, could hear the barely there swish of flannel brushing against another layer of clothing. He could definitely feel the man’s fingers roughly grip his chin.

“Ow.”

“Let’s see the damage, kid.” The older man pressed his fingers to Stiles eyelids, poking and prodding as if he believed Stiles had lost the feeling in his eyes along with his sight. “Dean said this happened randomly?”

“I was driving, my vision started going fuzzy, there was a sharp pain my head, and that was it.” He relayed the tale for what felt like the thousandth time. “The next thing I know, Juice is waking me up, telling me that I’ve crashed my Jeep and I’ve gone blind.”

“I was thinking the guy who stopped him in the store must have done it.” Juice repeated his earlier theory to the hunters. “Stiles said he had film over his eyes and he made comments about Stiles eyes.”

“It’s a good possibility.” Bobby remarked. “Sam, go meet up with Dean and Jax, help back them up. Do not let them kill the man who Stiles saw at the store until we fix his eyes.”

“Yeah, I’m on it.” The scuffle of feet and slam of the door indicated the younger Winchester had exited the house to carry out his orders.

“Juice, you need to look for a hex bag. You should check the Jeep first, since that is where y’all were when this started.”

“The Jeep’s at TM. I’m not leaving Stiles.” Juice stomped his foot for added affect, Stiles couldn’t see him but he was sure it made the Son look like an overgrown child.

“Okay. I will go to the garage to search the Jeep and you can stay here and search the house.” Bobby compromised.

“I like that plan better.” Juice acknowledged, relief palpable in his tone.

“W-What can I do?” Stiles could not just do nothing, it would drive him crazier than he already was. “I can help, just tell me how.”

“Kid,” Bobby placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The best thing you can do is sit tight. Now, I need you to tell me what the man at the store did. Did he touch anything?”

“He, um, rammed our basket and leaned over Abel’s car seat.” That was all Stiles could remember. “Then he made the comments about our eyes.”

“Where is the car seat now?”

“It’s in the Jeep.” Along with everything else Jax would need for Abel. “Wait. You need to take it to Jax and Dean. They’ll need it to bring Abel home. And the diaper bag, they’ll need that too.”

“Calm down.” Juice advised in a soothing tone, taking Stiles’ hand in his. “Jax can hold Abel. It’ll be fine.”

“You guys should be there.” Stiles would much rather have Juice and Bobby at the warehouse instead of babysitting him. “My eyes can wait. Go help the others.”

“We are not having this discussion, Stiles.” Juice shifted on the couch beside him. “We all have our orders.”

“I’m gonna head to the garage to look for that hex bag.” Bobby reported, heavy footfalls leading him to the door. “Juice, you better start searching the house. Stiles, just try to relax.”

“Not possible.”

* * *

 

Jax decided he hated witches or warlocks or whatever the hell they wanted to be called. They didn’t beat him or tie him up to keep him compliant, as his captors normally did. No, they used some kind of magic to force him into a chair and keep him complacent. It seemed like as long as one of them had their eyes on him, he was paralyzed from the chest down. However, if they took their eye off of him for a moment, he could move his fingers, possibly his feet, he never got the chance to try anything more.

“Leave us.” Moonbeam ordered his coven as he entered the office that had been acting as Jax’s holding cell. “I would like to speak to Mr. Teller alone.”

He waited patiently for the others to leave before fixing Jax with a curious yet beatific stare. Jax was struck by his eyes, the familiar radiant amber that Jax instantly recognized. Those were the same eyes he had been looking into for over seventeen years.

“What did you do to my brother?” Jax knew those eyes weren’t just similar to Stiles,’ they were an exact replica, or, Jax feared, the original pair.

“I thought you were here for your son,” Moonbeam quirked a brow and sat on the edge of the desk. “Why is your brother the one you ask after?”

“You’re wearing his eyes.” They looked so wrong inside the warlock’s sockets.

“They’re quite beautiful, aren’t they?” He smiled proudly at his acquisition. “Oh, they see so much, these eyes. He sees so much. Did you know that you can tell a lot about a person by how someone close to them sees them?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“These eyes, your brother’s eyes, show me so much more than your physical appearance.” Moonbeam trailed his gaze up and down the length of Jax’s body, leaving him feeling open and exposed. “They show me how he sees you. Would you like to know what he sees when he looks at you?”

“I thought this was about staying young.” Jax could see that had not really been a problem for the guy, he appeared to be around Jax’s age, if not a little younger. “Why all the focus on Stiles eyes?”

“Each child assists in my healing process in one way or another.” He revealed, stroking his chest provocatively. “Your brother was to be my eyes, but the ritual was interrupted. Once started, it had to be complete. I could not take another’s eyes, when I had not finished what I started with his.”

“And his spark?” To the best of Jax’s knowledge, that was a big part of the warlock’s ‘healing’ process.

“That is how I keep these.” He motioned to his- _Stiles_ \- eyes. “This is just temporary until I have his spark.”

“You won’t get his spark.” Jax would never allow it, not when he knew stripping his brother of that part of him would be fatal.

“That boy is destined for darkness. All the boys I take are.” Moonbeam frowned sadly, as if the fate of the children broke his heart. “We don’t take the sparks that are pure, just the ones that are marked. Evil will inhibit your brother if he’s allowed to live, an ancient evil. He has no idea how or why or when it will happen, but even he knows it’s coming.”

“That kid does not have an evil bone in his body.” Stiles could be immoral, manipulative, and vengeful, but he was also the most genuine and pure thing in Jax’s life, next to his own son of course.

“Not yet, but it is only a matter of time before the door is open and the Void will fill every crevice of his welcoming body.” Moonbeam didn’t seem to care that his word choice made Jax shudder in disgust, if anything he took joy in it. “Unless I stop him, and I will.”

“You can’t have him or my son.” Jax would die a thousand deaths before he ever let this son of a bitch touch his boys.

“I don’t want your son. He’s a means to an end.” Abel was merely a pawn in the game they were playing. “Your brother and I are connected, you see. We have been since the ritual began all those years ago and will be until it is complete, until he dies when the spark is burned out of him.”

“That is never going to happen.” Jax was only the first line of defense, there were so many others who would step up to protect Stiles if Jax failed. “You didn’t have the strength to take him, not if he put up a fight. That’s why you took Abel. You think you can use Abel to draw Stiles to you.”

“I saw the way he looked at that baby. He has a father’s love for your son.” Moonbeam professed thoughtfully. “He will come for the infant. He will trade his life for your son's. He will give me his spark willingly if it means protecting that child.”

“He won’t have to give you anything.” Jax would kill every member of the coven before Stiles ever made it to the warehouse.

“You cannot save him. You cannot protect him now, just as you couldn’t protect him then.” He smiled blithely as Jax flinched at his words. “You did not ride in to rescue him, the hunter did. Neither of you can save him this time.”

“You said you could see me how he does, through his eye.” It was a little unbelievable, but, hell, Jax had dealt with lots of unbelievable things since he had been thrust into the world of the supernatural. “It that’s true, then you can see that I am not lying. He knows that I will always protect him. He has _seen_ me do that.”

“He believes it, you believe it, but that doesn’t make it true.” Moonbeam reasoned, offering him a look of pity. “Your brother will be mine.”

“Just because you believe it, doesn’t make it true.” Jax said mockingly, a wide grin playing on his lips as the telltale rumble of the Impala’s engine sounded in the distance. “Game over, douchebag.”

Moonbeam whirled around to face the door, as if Dean would burst through it at any moment. Jax felt the instant his magic-induced paralysis had been lifted with the warlock’s eyes off him. He took full advantage of Moonbeam’s distraction, lunging out of his chair and slamming him against the door.

You and me,” Jax hissed into the man’s ear. “We are going to have a long talk about why it is a bad idea to think you have right to touch my brother and son.”

* * *

 

Dean and Sam caught up with each other at the bottom of the trail just off the main road. They left Sam’s borrowed pick-up there and took the Impala up to the warehouse. Dean didn’t try to keep their approach quiet, he wanted the coven to know they were coming. If they were focused on the enemy coming up the road, they would be too busy to harm Jax or Abel.

“Abel is the priority.” Dean told his brother as they readied their weapons. “Jax can handle himself. We get Abel first, Jax second.”

“I got it.” Sam nodded, slipping an extra ammo clip into his pocket. “We going through the front door?”

“Why the hell not?”  Dean shrugged his shoulders, eyeing the door. “They won’t be expecting that.”

“Bobby said he wants the guys who stole Stiles sight alive,” Sam reminded him, as if Dean had forgotten that tidbit since Sam had told him five minutes prior. “Just in case they don’t find a hex bag.”

“How are we supposed to know which one that is?” They couldn’t very well let all the men live and hope one of them was the right guy. “We guess?”

“Maybe we’ll know him when we see him?”

“All right, well, Abel, Jax, and Stiles eyes.” Dean ticked the priority list off on his fingers.

Sam pulled the warehouse door open just far enough for Dean to glance inside. He noted the lit candles and an altar, similar to the one he had seen at the ranger station years ago. There were a small number of coven members surrounding the altar, preparing for the ritual, presumably.

“Three visible.” He whispers to his brother as he pulled the hammer back on his gun. “I’ll take the two on the left, you get the one on the right. Keep your eyes open.”

“On three, okay? One, two,” Sam counted down before yanking the door open. _“Three.”_

They were careful as to where they aimed their guns as they rushed into the building. They couldn’t be sure where they were holding Abel and Jax and didn’t want them to become victims of friendly fire. They held their guns high, fired their bullets at the same time toward the witches heads. The sound of Dean’s second shot was followed quickly by the shrill cry from an infant.

“Abel.” Dean’s feet more moving in the direction of the wails before it even fully registered in his mind.

“Dean,” Sam stopped him with a hand across his chest. “Reacting without thinking is what got Jax captured.”

“Listen to your brother.” A female voice rang through the room before the door Dean had been walking toward swung open on its own volition. A young woman appeared behind it, a baby bundled in her arms, and the silhouettes of several others standing on the other side of her. “You are the hunter who came before.”

“And you ain’t Starr.” Dean had killed the head bitch himself the last time around. “I guess you took her place.”

“We are not unlike you hunters.” She claimed, shifting the child in her arms. “When one of us falls, another will step up to take their place.”

“If you want to keep your place, you will hand over that kid.” Sam threatened, bringing up his gun.

“He belongs to us.”

“Wrong.” Dean snarled, looking over his shoulder at Sam as he took a single step back, needing to be sure they were on the same page for what was about to happen. “Right, brother?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, holstering his gun and taking half a step forward. “Right.”

The witch seemed put off by Sam’s newly weaponless status, taking her own step back. With her eyes on Sam, Dean had the chance to level his gun to her head and pull the trigger. In the same moment, Sam dove toward her, snatching the baby from her arms.

Sam crouched close to the ground, his body curled protectively around the infant, while Dean kicked the door open the rest of the way. The thump of it smacking against the wall echoed through the room, startling the coven members hidden inside. Dean opened fire without hesitation, emptying his clip into their bodies, it was almost like shooting fish in a barrel. He continued to press his finger to the trigger long after the last warlock hit the floor.

“Dean,” Sam straightened up, tightening his hold on the baby. “They’re dead, Dean.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, replacing his empty clip with full one, just in case. “Is Abel okay?”

“He seems fine. I don’t think they hurt him.” Sam inspected the infant closely. “But, um, what happened to keeping the men alive so we could get Stiles sight back?”

“Oops.” He wasn’t thinking about that when firing his gun, the only thing on his mind was Abel’s cries. “Take the baby to the car, lock the doors, but stay alert, there could be more of them out there. I’m gonna find Jax.”

“Okay.” Sam held the baby against him with one arm and his gun in the other. “I’ll wait for you in the Impala.”

“I’m trusting you to keep him safe, Sammy.” Things had been off with Dean and his brother since his return from Hell, but right now, they needed to stow that shit for the sake of the kid. “I don’t care what happens, you keep him safe.”

“I promise.” He was inclined to believe Sam’s vow, if only because he had not heard such conviction in his voice in months. “Go get Jax. The kid’s gonna need his dad.”

“Yeah.”

Dean kept an ear out for danger as his brother trudged out of the building with the baby. He only made a move to the other office when he was confident the boys were safely outside the warehouse and tucked away inside the Impala. He was pleasantly surprised when a stray coven member did not pop out of the woodwork to prevent him from shoving the door open.

He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t taken aback by what he found in the room. Jax standing over a man’s still form, arm raised as he brought a blood soaked crystal to the back of the man’s already bludgeoned head. There were stains of red coating Jax’s hands and splattered across his face, making him look the villain of a gruesome slasher flick.

“Jackson,” He called out to the other man before he could smash the rock against the man’s skull once more. “It’s done. They’re dead.”

“Abel?” Jax set the crystal on the desk, steadying it even, as if he were afraid to break it. “Where’s my son?”

“He’s safe.” Dean assured him as he took his cellphone from his pocket, pressing Bobby’s number on the speed dial. “But we have another problem.”

 _“How’s it going, son?”_ Bobby questioned as the call connected.

“We got Abel and Jax.” The mission was a success, in that respect. “Tell me you found the hex bag and that Stiles is right as rain.”

“What’s wrong with Stiles?” Jax was at his side in a second, seeming ready to rip the phone out of Dean’s hands.

 _“There was no hex bag, just a small sigil painted on the undercarriage of the Jeep. I cleaned it off but it didn’t do any good.”_ Bobby sighed, sounding at his wits end. _“I need the guy who cast the spell.”_

“That might be a problem.” And he was definitely lying with the ‘might be,’ because it was most certainly a problem. “In our defense, there was no way for us to actually know which one cast the spell. I mean, it’s not like they were wearing a sign on their foreheads.”

 _“He’d be the one wearing Stiles eyes!”_ Bobby shouted over the line.

“How the hell was I supposed to know which one was wearing Stiles eyes?” It’s not like he took the time to check.

“This one,” Jax pointed to the dead body lying on the floor beneath his feet. “His eyes were…I could swear they were my brother’s.”

“Okay. Good. Bobby, we know which one cast the spell.” Not that it really mattered, the guy was unable to reverse the spell given his current…condition. “He’s kind of dead. What’s plan b?”

“Bring me his eyes.”

* * *

 

Sitting still was never Stiles strong suit. Even after learning Abel was on his way home, he couldn’t stop the flow of nervous energy. The feel of a finger spreading wet paint, at least he hoped it was paint, over his face was not helping the situation.

“How confident are you that this is going to work?” Juice asked, the long line of his body pressed against Stiles side.

“There are no guarantees.” Bobby said as his finger continued to move over Stiles skin. “It’s the best shot we have. Sorry, I can’t give you better odds.”

“I don’t care. As long as Abel is okay then it’s all okay.” Honestly, his eyes were the furthest thing from his mind. “I can learn to live without my sight. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. Losing Abel…”

“You didn’t lose him, Stiles. He’s fine.” Juice tried so hard to be reassuring, but Stiles needed more than words, he needed physical or verbal proof before he let himself believe that. “Hey, can you hear that?”

“Hear what?” He strained his ears until they picked up on the purr of the Impala’s engine. “They’re back!”

He shot up off the couch, despite Juice and Bobby’s best efforts to keep him in place. He tripped and stumbled out the door, nearly falling flat as he made his way down the steps. He didn’t make it very far, once he hit the walkway there was a rush of footsteps coming from the driveway and then cold hands grasping his neck.

“Stiles,” Jax held him still, moving his head from side to side, examining his wounds. “Are you okay?”

“Where’s Abel?” Stiles smacked his hand over Jax’s arm, stomach, and torso, trying to find any hint that the baby was there. “No. No. No. You said- They said you found him. Where is he? Where’s Abel?”

“It’s okay.” Jax wrapped his arms tightly around him. “He’s okay. Dean has him. He’s not hurt, which is more than I can say for you.”

“I want to see- hold him. I wanna hold him.” He needed to feel that his nephew was really there, that he was safe and unharmed. _“Please.”_

“Let’s get you fixed up first, okay?” Jax turned him back toward the house, ushering him inside.

“You got those eyes for me?” Bobby inquired once they were through the door. “The sooner we get this done, the better.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I got those.” Jax rooted around in his pocket until he found the items. “Dean, would you change Abel’s diaper? I want to help with Stiles.”

“I don’t need help.” Stiles pushed his brother away and dropped onto the sofa next to Juice. “You don’t need to baby me. Abel needs you. He’s probably still scared. And hungry! He needs a bottle.”

“Jax, he’s not going to calm down until he knows _you_ are the one taking care of Abel.” Dean’s tone suggested he was mildly offended by Stiles attitude, as if he thought Stiles didn’t trust him to care for the infant. “Switch me places. You take the baby and I’ll hold Stiles down.”

“Juice is the only one allowed to hold me down.” Stiles leaned into the warmth of Juice’s body, anxiety ratcheting up a notch. “But, honestly, I’m a little worried about _why_ I need to be held down.”

“This is gonna hurt.” Bobby told him as he forced his head back. “Reversing the spell is gonna hurt you a hell of a lot more than when it was cast. Juice is at your right, so Dean’s gonna take your left. They are gonna hold down your arms and legs, so you don’t jerk around. Sam, I want you to keep his head still.”

“Bite on this,” Juice worked his leather belt into Stiles mouth. “To keep from screaming. We don’t want the neighbors to call the cops.”

“What exactly are you gonna do with those eyeballs?” Sam asked, sounding very close to vomiting.

“For Stiles sake, I’m not gonna answer that.” Bobby muttered. “Stiles, I’m gonna start now. I need you to close your eyelids, when you do, you’re gonna feel a light pressure on top of them but I don’t want you to open them. Do not open them until I say so. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” His affirmation muffled by the makeshift gag in his mouth.

Stiles tuned out the world as Bobby began to speak in Latin. He felt the pulsing at his temples within seconds of that ‘pressure’ being applied. The real pain came on suddenly, like white-hot fire searing through his skull.

His scream of pain was suppressed by the belt in his mouth. His struggles to move away, to put as much distance between he and the pain as possible, proved useless. There were knees on his thighs and palms against his shoulders holding him down. It was for his safety, he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel betrayed that they would force him to endure such agony.

“All right, boy.” Bobby’s gruff voice sounded like a jackhammer in his head. “Go ahead and open your eyes.”

The gag was taken from his mouth and the intrusive extra limbs disappeared from his body. He felt a soothing hand cup the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing comforting circles over his skin. Silent words of encouragement were whispered into his ear, urging him to reveal his eyes.

It was harder than he thought it would be to pry them open, and when he managed it, he immediately regretted it. The disorienting light hit him first, bright colors filling the previous darkness. His vision blurred over for what felt like several minutes, but was probably more like seconds, before it cleared completely.

“Oh.” Having everything returned to focus did nothing to help his headache. “ _Fuck.”_

“Stiles,” Juice gripped his face between his hands, lowering his head from its tipped back position. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can see you.” He could also see the numerous cut and bruises on Juice’s face from the car accident, but he would have to kiss those better later. He had more important things to worry about. “Where’s Abel?”

“How does your head feel?” Bobby asked as he disposed of the items used in the ritual.

“Like it’s been cut in half.” He admitted, figuring it was best to be honest instead of trying to play it off, in the off chance that his headache was going to lead to another kind of nasty side effect.

“Use this, clean yourself up.” Jax handed him a baby wipe. “Hopefully, it will disinfect your eyelids.”

“He put those eyeballs on top of my eyelids, didn’t he?” He fought not to gag as he scrubbed at his lids, thinking if he could get it done fast enough then Jax would give him what he really wanted. “I want to see Abel, Jackson. Please, let me hold him.”

“Clean yourself up first.” His older brother insisted. “Then you can feed him and put him to bed.”

“The last time I put him to bed someone came in and took him.” He was never going to forgive himself for that. “I’m so sorry, Jax.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jax nudged Stiles hands away from his face and held out the baby to him. “There is no one I trust more to keep him safe than you.”

“Not even Dean?”

“It’s not a competition. “ Jax chuckled as he placed Abel gently into Stiles arms. “Feed him and then you can both get to bed. You can keep him in your room if you want. I kept you with me after your kidnapping.”

“I’ll do that.” Now that he had him, he didn’t think he could let him go. “Hey, um, Dean’s gonna stay the night with yo-“

“Juice can stay the night, but no sex while my son is in the room.”

“Deal.”

* * *

 

Bobby and Sam left to clean up the warehouse shortly after Stiles, Juice, and Abel had gone to bed. It left Jax and Dean alone for the first time all day.

“Long day.” Jax yawned as he stretched out on the couch. “But we got my son back, so it was a good day.”

“I’m sorry that we had to get him back.” Dean apologized as he all but collapsed into the armchair. “If Bobby and I had been thorough the first time aro-“

“Stow the misplaced guilt shit, please. I don’t blame you for any of this.” The only people Jax blamed were those responsible and they were all dead. “You brought my son home, just like you brought my brother back. I’m grateful.”

“You would have gotten him back without me, just as soon as you stopped wailing on Moonbeam.” Dean’s lips curved up in a half-smile. “That was…something else.”

“You disapprove?”

“Not at all.”

“It scared you?” It wouldn’t surprise Jax if it had. Dean had never witnessed him lose control like that, had never seen him take a life before.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “No, the opposite, actually. It, uh, showed me how capable you were. It showed me that I don’t have to worry about you.”

“You worry about me?” Jax couldn’t decide if that was cute or condescending.

“I worry about everyone I care about.” Dean dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to meet Jax’s eye. “I care about you more than I probably should.”

“I care about you too. You know that, right?” Jax had never tried to hide his feelings from the hunter, but he’d never come right out and told him about them either. “It’s not like it was when we were teenagers. It’s more than that, it’s deeper than that. Its grown, I guess. I don’t know what the hell I’m trying to say.”

“Does this help?” Stiles shouted from his room before the familiar melody of ‘I Want To Know What Love Is’ by _Foreigner_ began floating through the house. “Is this pretty much what you emotionally inept dimwits are trying to say to each other?”

“Oh my god…” Jax buried his head in his hands, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Little brothers.” Dean snickered knowingly.

Jax climbed off the couch and marched to his brother’s room with a purpose. He pushed the already ajar door open the rest of the way and couldn’t help but smile at the sight he found. Juice was sprawled across the bed, Abel lying fast asleep in the crook of his arm, while Stiles sat up with his back to the wall, Juice’s head pillowed in his lap.

“They slept through your yelling and the shitty song?” Jax snorted in disbelief, reaching over to flick off the stereo on the dresser.

“They’re tired.” Stiles shrugged, continuing to lazily skim his fingers over the tattoos on Juice’s skull. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Does that song sum up what you were trying to say to Dean?”

“No.” Perhaps it would have when they were kids, but they had moved way past that now. “I know how I feel about Dean.”

“You should tell him. I don’t mean skirt around it like you’re doing now.” Stiles leveled him with an unimpressed look. “He was dead for four months. During that time, how many nights did you go to sleep wishing you could have told him how you felt?”

“Too many.” It had been a near-constant ache in his heart the whole time Dean had been in Hell.

“You’ve got a second chance, Jax. He’s alive. He’s out there waiting for you.” Stiles gestured toward the direction of the living room. “Stop being such a pussy and just tell him.”

“I’m not a fucking pussy, shithead.” He was swat his brother in the back of the head if it didn’t still look like the kid was in an intense amount of pain.

“You’ve been sort of dating this guy, on and off, since you were fifteen and you have never told him that you love him.” He wanted to argue that it was not as strange as Stiles painted it to be, he and Dean were just taking things slow, in the feelings department at least, but he knew his brother wouldn’t buy it. “That’s, what, eighteen years without admitting your feelings or making a serious commitment? Fuck, you were with Wendy six months and you married her.”

“You got a point here?”

“When it comes to Dean and your feelings for him,” Stiles rolled his eyes as if the entire discussion was a huge inconvenience to him. “You are a pussy.”

“No, I’m not.” And he would fucking prove it. “Dean!”

“What?” The hunter shouted from the living room, the added noise causing the baby to stir.

“I love you.” He probably could have waited to say it until they were face-to-face instead of yelling it from his brother’s room, but oh well.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Dean grumbled sounding almost bored by the admission. “I love you too.”

“Great. You two love each other.” Juice muttered sleepily. “Can you talk about that somewhere else? We’re trying to sleep in here.”

“Yeah, I'm going. And because I'm feeling generous, we’ll try to keep the sex noises to a minimum.” Jax promised, earning matching groans of distaste.

“We appreciate that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next addition to the Verse will be a much longer multi-chapter that'll be set through the first seasons of Sons of Anarchy and Teen Wolf, and the third season of Supernatural.

**Author's Note:**

> The moment Jax is refering to when Stiles hits Clay with a ball can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4412924/chapters/11138444).  
> [TUMBLR](http://www.stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/)  
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, they are greatly appreciated.


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